


I’ll keep your heart safe

by NarryMusings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, Break Up, Crime!AU, Elounor/Sophiam/Zerrie are all just mentioned relations, Guns, M/M, Overdose, Pining, Some Fluff, Theft, a little bit of smut, it might be a bit of a slow burn for the first half, narry endgame - Freeform, the girls don't even make an appearance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryMusings/pseuds/NarryMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know how it looks,” Harry murmurs. “I know how it sounds. I know it seems like I chose Nick over you, but I didn't."</p><p>"You did. You only chose me as an afterthought."</p><p>"Not an afterthought. Just…the final thought. The only thought that really matters."</p><p>“Really?” Niall asks, sounding defeated. He shakes his head, looking down at the ground to avoid Harry’s gaze. “Because every other thought you had matters to me too, Harry.”</p><p>-</p><p>OR, the sequel to 'Diamond' in which Niall and Harry find it difficult to navigate the ruins of their battered relationship - especially as new trouble threatens to ruin everything all over again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ll keep your heart safe

**Author's Note:**

> The summary probably makes this sound really lame, and I'm sorry for that, but give it a chance? Please?
> 
> This is a sequel, with prequel-like elements, for a drabble I wrote ages ago called [Diamond](http://narrymusings.tumblr.com/post/101897749155/diamond). If you haven't read it, you might want to, otherwise a bit of confusion might ensue. 
> 
> Also, here's a bit of a guideline:  
> '[Before]' = before the Diamond (aka, the prequel-like stuff)  
> '[After]' = directly after Diamon/before this insallment  
> '[Now]' = present-time  
> (The '[After]' near the ending = an epilogue, of sorts
> 
> I hope all of that makes sense. Anyway, this has been a long time in the making. Too long, in fact. So, happy reading! :)

[Before]  
  
_"You mean to tell me that Niall Horan attends The University of London?"  
  
__Harry quirks an eyebrow in response to Nick's rather aggressive – and a little bit suspicious – outburst. He stares across the room at the tall and lanky older man who's sitting in his pants on the window sill, one hand on his thigh whilst dangling the one holding a cigarette out the window. One minute they were just talking in Harry's living room about the fit Irish bloke Harry saw (and heard) on campus this morning – one he would very much like to bend over a table in the library, if he's honest – and now Nick's looking at him all wide-eyed and expectant. "Yeah, why?" Harry asks. "You know him?" He's about five seconds away from claiming said Irish boy as his own, seeing as Nick shags enough boys that aren't Harry already.  
  
__Nick blinks, flicks his cigarette out over the fire escape and down into the alley below. Harry hates when he does that, but he’s stopped saying as such because Nick never listens to him anyway. "He's Niall Horan, Harry," he says as he pushes himself away from window sill. He settles then on the arm of the couch Harry's sitting on in nothing but his own pants, the bottom of his laptop hot against his bare thighs. "As in Bobby Horan – the Horan Estate – the Horan-"  
  
__"Diamond," Harry finishes for him, breathlessly. Because yes, he definitely recognizes the name now._

 _"He's literally the richest rich kid in England and he's not even English."  
  
__Niall might not be a prince, or even a duke, but he's so filthy rich – or, rather, his father, a self-made billionaire is_ so _filthy rich that Niall Horan may as well be considered Irish Royalty anyway.  
  
__"And he's attending Uni," Harry adds. He moves to place his laptop on the coffee table in front of him rather than leaving it on his lap; his photo shop session can wait. His project isn’t due for another week and half anyway. "I wonder why-"  
  
__"Who the fuck cares why – do you know how much that bloody diamond is worth?" Nick asks, voice raised enthusiastically.  
  
__Harry blinks, because no he doesn't. He knows it's a lot though. Like,_ a lot _-a lot, being billionaires and all.  
  
__Nick smirks. "Enough for one to retire on the worth of it alone." He crawls across the couch cushions until he's pressed up against Harry's side, forehead pressed against the side of Harry's face, lips brushing against his ear. "I'd say enough for a couple of blokes like us to retire, even."_

_There's a glint of mischief – a criminal kind – and excitement that flickers in Nick's hazel eyes when Harry cranes his neck to look at him, and Harry knows where his train of thought is heading without the bloke even having to voice it. And, well, why the fuck not? He's got nothing much to lose, after all.  
  
+  
  
If anyone were to ask, Harry finds Niall Horan in the courtyard completely by accident. It isn't planned at all. He definitely didn't slide £50 across the counter for the girl in the office to give him Niall's schedule. Nor did he hang about outside Niall's building until his class let out so he could follow Niall to said courtyard. No, he happens upon Niall Horan by chance.  
  
_ _He saunters up to where Niall's sat on the bench of an old picnic table, legs stretched and ankles crossed out in front of him under the table, with three books scattered across the tabletop. He stops in front of the boy, then, so close that his shadow casts over a large portion of the table. "Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?" he asks casually._

_Niall looks up at him, squints in the brightness of the rare, afternoon sun and stares for a moment before he looks back down at his notebook, seemingly unamused.  
  
_ _Harry smirks, shoving both hands into the front of his black skinny jeans. "Do your legs hurt? Cause you've been running 'round my head all day."  
  
_ _Niall snorts, but otherwise he doesn't even acknowledge that Harry's spoken.  
  
_ _"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"  
  
_ _"Ok, now they're just getting pathetic, mate," Niall drawls, smiles when he looks up at Harry – and Harry finds himself admiring just how blue Niall's eyes are; how flushed Niall's cheeks have become. The blond folds his arms across the top of the table, cocks an eyebrow. "Hi."  
  
_ _"Hi," Harry says, grinning. "Sorry, I...don't know what I was thinking." His voice sounds hesitant – sheepish, even. That's a lie, though, because he knows exactly what he was thinking. He knows what he’s doing too._

_Niall quirks an eyebrow. "Are all of your pick up lines this lame?"  
  
_ _"Not even close."  
  
_ _"Do they work?"  
  
_ _"All the time."  
  
_ _Niall smirks, rolls his eyes.  
  
_ _Harry moves his right hand behind his head, scratches at the back of his neck a bit sheepishly. "I'm also really great at putting my foot in my mouth."  
  
_ _Niall laughs and then looks thoughtful, like he's studying Harry. It's like Harry can see the wheels turning in the blond boy's head. His eyes are even more beautiful up close. Something like recognition flickers in his eyes, then. "You're the bloke that bumped into me a couple days, knocked your books all over floor," he concludes. And, ah, Niall does recognize him._

_Harry grins at that. "That would be me, yes. I'm a bit of mess, long limbs and whatnot. My mum used to call me 'Bambi' when I was little because I could never quite figure out what to do with my legs."  
  
__Niall arches an eyebrow. "Seems like you're still a bit of a Bambi to me, mate."  
  
__"Touché," Harry laughs. "I'm Harry, by the way." A small smile tugs at his lips as he reaches a hand out firmly.  
  
__"Niall," the blond murmurs as he, too, reaches forward and then slips his hand into Harry's.  
  
__As if on cue Niall's phone goes off, an Eagles tune as his alarm – and only then does Niall break their eye contact. He pulls his hand away from Harry's and reaches for his phone with it to turn it off.  
  
__"That's my cue to get to class," he says, pushing himself to his feet. He slaps each book closed and then tosses them into the bright green book bag that had been lying on the floor at his feet. "It was nice meeting you."  
  
__"Yeah, you too – hey um," he pauses, scratches the back of his head nervously. And this time he really is nervous; he can't fuck this up. "Do you...maybe want to exchange numbers? Y'know, in case I want to try out a few more pick-up lines."  
  
__Niall snorts, but gives Harry his phone anyway.  
  
__"Maybe I'll see you around?" Harry asks hopefully as he gives Niall his phone back – after he's texts himself, of course.  
  
__Niall nods, the corners of lips pulling up into a small smile. "See you around, Bambi."  
  
__Harry watches him walk away and hopes it isn't for the last time.  
_  
X

[After]  
  
_"Alright, Styles, what's the bloody emergency? Why are you in such-" Nick freezes and the words get caught in his throat mid-sentence when he sees Harry sitting on the couch, surrounded by photos of Niall. There's an empty box that had once held the diamond on the coffee table. Harry's holding another picture, one that's different from the others, more personal; one Harry took and framed, himself. "What's all this? Where's the diamond?" he asks, trying to keep his voice as calm and casual as possible.  
  
__Harry looks up at him with red, swollen eyes. "How'd you know I had the diamond?"  
  
__"Does it fucking matter? Where is it?!"  
  
__"Niall has it," Harry mutters. He drops his gaze back towards the photograph between his fingers.  
  
__Nick blinks, taken aback. "Niall has it – why does Niall have it?"  
  
__"He knows, Nick."  
  
__Nick swears his heart stops before his blood runs cold. "Are you fucking joking?"  
  
__"Does it look like I'm fucking joking?!" Harry snaps, eyes wide and wild as he pushes himself to his feet. "Niall knows. He knows and he's taking the diamond back and-"  
  
__"Then what the fuck are you doing just sitting around?!" Nick shouts, panics. "You should be packing a fucking suitcase! Fuck, Harry! We need to get the next flight out of here – we need to use whatever money we have and get the fuck-"_

_Harry shakes his head. "I'm not going."  
  
_ _Nick blinks three more times, states at Harry incredulously. "What?"  
  
_ _"I'm not leaving. You can go – you can fly anywhere you want to but I'm not-"  
  
_ _"Harry-"  
  
_ _"He knows everything, Nick!" Harry yells – and this time his voice breaks. This time he sounds as distraught as he looks. "It's more than just the fucking diamond, he knows everything – he knows what I did and why I did it, he knows everything!" Harry sounds absolutely devastated. Nick remains silent. "And now he's packed a bag and he's taking the diamond back and he isn't coming back."  
  
_ _Nick sighs. "All the more reason for you to pack one of your own."  
  
_ _"You don't get it, do you? I'm-"  
  
_ _"In love with him. I know."  
  
_ _"He's hurt – he's so hurt and it's because of me," Harry whispers. "I hurt him. He trusted me and he loved me and I hurt him."  
  
_ _"Harry-"  
  
_ _"Do you know how that feels?"  
  
_ _"Look, we can't sit around here talking about broken hearts, Harry. If we stick around we might as well just hand ourselves over to the police-"  
  
_ _"Maybe we should."  
  
_ _Nick pauses, narrows his gaze at Harry. "I'm gonna ignore the fact that you just said that. Where's your-"  
  
_ _"I'm not going, Nick," Harry mutters. He drops back down onto the couch, the photo still clasped tightly between his fingers. "You can go, I'll even help you, I just – I'm tired of running. I'm tired of being paranoid that everything is going to fall apart. I'm tired of constantly looking over my shoulder because I'm afraid I'm gonna get caught. I’m tired of constantly worrying about what my mother will think if I ever did get caught. I'm tired of hurting innocent people – especially now that it's become someone I actually care about. I'm just...tired."  
  
_ _"Harry-"  
  
_ _"I don't want to do it anymore. I want to live an honest life. I want to make an honest living. I want to live a normal fucking life, Nick."  
  
_ _Nick scoffs. "You won't be living much of a fucking life at all behind bars though, would you?"  
  
_ _Harry shrugs and then shakes his head. "Just...go."  
  
_ _Nick hesitates, stares at Harry, but only for a few seconds. And then he goes.  
  
+  
  
_ _To say he’s surprised to walk into the flat to find Niall standing in the middle of the bedroom is an understatement. It’s been three days since Niall found the diamond in the back of their closet – since he walked out. Three days is how long it’s been since Harry’s seen him. Niall won’t take his calls, won’t even answer his text messages. And here’s Niall, standing right in front of him in a pair of joggers and an old t-shirt, hair unwashed, tired eyes._

_"_ _Niall... Hi," Harry breathes.  
  
_ _Niall blinks. "I – I thought you left."  
  
_ _"I forgot my text book,” Harry tells him. He’d gotten halfway to campus when he realized he’d left his textbook in the bedroom. And, well, considering he hadn’t even wanted to go to class, he’d taken it as a sign that he shouldn’t go. And what a sign it was. “What- Can we talk?"  
  
_ _"I'm just picking up the rest of my stuff," Niall mutters. He picks up a box off the bed, holds it in front of him.  
  
_ _"I know, I just – I was hoping-"  
  
_ _"Well you can stop because he isn't interested."  
  
_ _Harry whirls around, comes face-to-face with Zayn who's standing in the doorway.  
  
_ _"Zayn," Niall murmurs.  
  
_ _Zayn saunters into the room, glares at Harry as he passes him to stand slightly in between him and Niall. "I thought you said he has class."  
  
_ _"I did – he does. He forgot his textbook-"  
  
_ _"He's standing right here,” Harry mutters.  
  
_ _"Yeah, and shouldn't you be going?" Zayn sneer.  
  
_ _"Zayn! Just – here." Niall hands Zayn the box in his hands, despite the fact that it’s only half full. He pushes it against Zayn’s chest until Zayn lifts his hands up to hold it, pushes Zayn in the general direction of the door. "Take this down to the car, yeah?"  
  
_ _Harry blinks.  
  
_ _"I just got back up from the car, I'm not going all the way back down more than I should have to."  
  
_ _"Then just – go sit in the living room or something."  
  
_ _Zayn raises an eyebrow. "I thought the whole point of us coming while he had class was so you wouldn't have to see him?"  
  
_ _Harry's heart clenches.  
  
_ _"It was,” Niall whispers. “But he's here now, so – please, Zayn, don't make this any harder for me..."  
  
_ _Zayn frowns and then leaves. He doesn’t even spare Harry another glance.  
  
_ _For the first time since Harry entered the room Niall's face softens when he looks at Harry – more specifically when he looks at the bruise across Harry's cheekbone. "What happened to your face?"  
  
_ _Harry shrugs. "Nick has a couple friends that weren't very happy with me."  
  
_ _Niall frowns. "Nick did this?"  
  
_ _"Not – I mean not really. He wasn't very happy with me either but all he did was shout."  
  
_ _"I have a few minions of me own – or, well, my family does. Could introduce 'em to Nick-"  
  
_ _"Niall," Harry whispers, and the blond stops talking. "He skipped town, anyway."  
  
_ _"Why'd you stick around then?"  
  
_ _"You know why."  
  
_ _Niall closes his eyes, runs a hand through his hair as he turns away. "Don't, Harry-"  
  
_ _"Why not? You don't – you don't have to move out, we can work this out."  
  
_ _"We can't-"  
  
_ _"Why not?” Harry presses. “You know everything now, we can talk about it – we can figure it out-"  
  
_ _"I can't, Harry."  
  
_ _"Why not?"  
  
_ _"Because I don't trust you!" Niall shouts. His tone is laced with betrayal, and a little bit of pain – and his eyes are filled with it, drowning in it. Harry just wants to save him.  
  
_ _"Y-You love me though, right?"  
  
_ _"Haz, stop-"  
  
_ _"You do – you love me. And you know I love you, so-"  
  
_ _"It's not enough!"  
  
_ _Harry blinks, taken aback.  
  
_ _Niall’s shoulders sag before he wraps his arms around himself, like he’s trying to keep himself together. "It's just...it's not enough, Harry. I can't be with you if I can't even trust you."_

_Harry takes a step towards him, flinches when Niall takes a step back. He stops, shoves his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out. "Then I can regain your trust. Niall, just let me regain your trust and we don't have to-"  
  
_ _"Stop, just – Harry, stop it," Niall pleads. He looks at Harry, tears shining in his eyes, cheeks flushed. "I'm – I’m leaving town."  
  
_ _Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat – or maybe that’s his heart that’s caught in his throat, and that’s why he can’t breathe. "W-what?"  
  
_ _"'m going back to Mullingar for a while,” Niall says as he busies himself with emptying his side of the desk on the opposite side of the room. “Gonna live with me Nan for a bit."  
  
_ _"For how long?"  
  
_ _Niall shrugs. "'m not sure yet."  
  
_ _"W-what about uni? Your program-"  
  
_ _"They've agreed to let me take a semester or two off."  
  
_ _Harry frowns, brows furrowed. "So this is it. You're just-"  
  
_ _Niall whirls around, glares at Harry. "Don't you dare put this on me – this is on you, Harry."  
  
_ _Harry sighs. "I'm not – ‘m not trying to, I just... When did you decide this?"  
  
_ _"Does it matter?"  
  
_ _"I guess not anymore."  
  
_ _Niall hums sort of bitterly. "You should, um...you should get to class. If you leave now you can still make it in time."  
  
_ _"Like I care about class right now," Harry scoffs.  
  
_ _"Harry."  
  
_ _Harry backs away with a nod of his head. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm gonna..." He trails off, points his thumb over his shoulder. "I'll um...I'll see you. Or not, I guess. Just – leave your key under the mat, yeah?"_

_The only reason he agrees to leave is because he doesn't want to watch Niall pack up his entire life; he can't watch Niall leave him. Not again.  
  
__He's wiping away tears, shoulders hunched as he makes a dash for the front door when Zayn's voice stops him. "Harry."  
  
__Harry turns around slowly, defeated. "What, Zayn?"  
  
__Zayn pushes himself up from couch in the living room, shoves his hands into his pockets. "Just...he needs space-"  
  
__Harry snorts. "Yeah, well, he's gonna have a whole lotta that when he's in Mullingar, won't he?"  
  
__Zayn almost looks sheepish, sort of guilty.  
  
__"I have to..." He leaves, then. Except he doesn't go to class at all, which is just as well considering he still forgot his textbook. Instead, he goes straight to Louis' and sobs into his shoulder for two hours before he falls asleep.  
_  
X

[Now]  
  
He hears the door open, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He keeps his gaze, instead, on the stars, a bottle of beer nestled between his thighs.

"You know, for someone who's trying to get his shit together and live that honest life he swore he was going to live, you're a fucking _mess_ , Harry."

Harry squints up at Louis, watches the lad come towards him, a case of Guinness in one hand and his jacket in the other. "Do you know what today is?" he slurs, just as Louis places the case on the ground next him.

Louis sighs, sits down so he’s opposite Harry. "Of course I-"

"It's Niall's birthday,” Harry says anyway. He brings the bottle up to his lips by the neck of it, and takes a swig before he rests his head back against the wall he’s leaning against. “And he's Irish so I'm getting drunk to celebrate it. You should join me – Niall would like that."

Louis thinks about commenting – a ‘ _What the bloody hell does it look like I’m doing?_ ’ on the tip of his tongue – but he decides against it. Harry probably wouldn’t even hear him anyway.

"Do you know what Niall and I did for his birthday last year? We had lunch with his parents and then dinner and a couple pints with you and the lads, and then I brought him to the roof top of our complex – a bit like this one actually,” he says, gesturing to the space around them. He’s on a different roof now; he lives in a different building now. “I strung up all these fairy lights and I laid out a bunch of blankets and pillows and then do you know what we did? We had a small picnic and we talked about the future and we stared up the sky and watched the stars because Niall has a thing for astronomy and...that was the first time I finally understood what Niall meant when he would say that we _made love_. Like, I knew it wasn't just fucking around because it always felt _different_ with him, but that was the first I let myself truly acknowledge it.

“And then two months later everything went to shit," he finishes, as he finishes off the rest of the beer in his bottle.

Louis pops open a bottle with his hand and then passes it to Harry, before grabbing another. "Because you're an idiot-"

"I'm a fucking _idiot_ ," Harry agrees. "God, Lou, I was so stupid."

"You made a mistake, Harry. Everyone makes them."

"Most mistakes people make are stupid things like forgetting to flush the toilet or burning dinner,” Harry scoffs. “Stealing a family heirloom isn't just a _mistake_. 's like, a catastrophe of epic proportions."

Louis raises an eyebrow. "I'm just actually really impressed you got that last bit out all in one go."

Harry rolls his eyes, despite the snort that slips out. "I called him earlier, to wish him a happy birthday. And he answered, which is the first time he's answered one of my calls in months – but he was out at like a pub or something, b'cause all I could hear was music and other voices. And it was like, it was so _great_ to hear his voice, to hear him laugh and giggle...but hearing him sound so _happy_ isn't sitting well with me. How awful is that?” he asks, looking like a mixture of incredulous and disappointment in himself. “I want him to be happy more than anything – any _one_ – in the world but I also _hate_ that it isn't because of me."

Louis hums. "You're right, that's pretty awful."

"You're not supposed to agree,” Harry scowls. He kicks at one of Louis’ legs. “You're supposed to tell me the opposite – you're supposed to lie to me-"

"When have I ever lied to you just to make you feel better about yourself?"

"Never,” Harry mutters. “Don't start, ok?"

Louis smirks, taps the toe of his shoe against Harry’s thigh. "Don't plan on it, mate."  
  
X

[Before]  
  
_It's a week after he meets Niall, and the third time he hangs out with Niall, in the very courtyard Harry approached him in, that Harry realizes he actually sort of...enjoys the blonde’s company. Like, really enjoys it actually.  
  
__Niall's fit, for one thing. Beautiful enough to look at and admire, hot enough to wank off to in the shower when he's home alone._

_Niall's also just really...cute. And funny. And charming. There's a certain glow about him, like he's actual sunshine incarnate. He makes Harry smile, makes him laugh, makes him feel like he’s floating on air for no reason in particular, really._

_  
"Harry!" Niall's shouting as he whacks a hand against Harry's shoulder.  
  
_ _"Ow!"  
  
_ _"Are you- You're not even paying attention, are you?"  
  
_ _Harry looks sheepish, but smiles innocently.  
  
_ _Niall rolls his eyes, despite his own.  
  
_ _"Hey, are you single?" Harry asks suddenly, arms folded on the table in front of him as he leans forward._

_"A single pringle,” Niall replies easily, casually. “Haven't even been on a date in... Jesus, I can't even remember the last time I went on a date. Was probably too drunk, for starters – and, actually, now that I think about it, I do remember it and it ended badly-"  
  
_ _"You should go on a date with me."  
  
_ _Niall raises an eyebrow. He’s silent for a moment, like he’s considering what Harry’s just said to him. He laughs, then, and shrugs it off. "That one of your new pickup lines? It needs some work, mate."_

_"No, I – I'm serious."  
  
_ _Niall blinks. "What?"  
  
_ _Harry smiles softly, and tilts his head to the side. "Would you like to go on a date with me, Niall?"_

_"You're serious?"  
  
_ _Harry nods.  
  
_ _Niall shifts. "You're not just takin' the piss?" he asks softly.  
  
_ _Harry shakes his head.  
  
_ _Niall grins. "Then, yeah,” he breathes. “I'd absolutely like to go on a date with you. Might even love it."  
  
_ _Harry smiles back. And his heart might even leap a little bit.  
_

_X  
  
Harry brings Niall to see James Bay, an up and coming artist they both adore, in London, for their first date. _

_Niall looks at him with wide eyes when they get to the Eventim Apollo, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes get even wider, when Harry pulls two tickets out of his wallet. "You – how did you... This concert was sold out. How'd you-"_

_Harry smirks, shrugs his shoulders. "You're not the only one with connections, Niall," is all he says. (Niall will never find out that his definition of connections means a friend with hacker abilities.)_

_"Impressive,” Niall says, and he really does look incredibly impressed. “Good start." He smiles so brightly, so brilliantly, so beautifully, when Harry hands him one ticket.  
  
_ _"I thought so."_

_They walk into the building together, side-by-side. Harry buys them each a beer and a small bucket of chips. They buy matching t-shirts. They find their seats together. Harry spends most of the time before the show starts watching Niall nibble anxiously on his fingernails, and bounce in his seat. Niall makes friends with a few of the people sitting in the seats around them, but Harry hangs back; continues to look on fondly, because Niall really does radiate like sunshine. Niall takes Harry’s hand and threads their fingers together by the third song._

_+  
  
After the concert ends they find themselves in a dive bar, where they split between them a few more pints and some really greasy food – only because Niall threatened to pay for all of it if Harry didn't let him pay for half. After that they wind up walking around London, talking about everything from their childhoods to the thing they find themselves wishing most for in the world. [Happiness.] They're out and about until the sun starts to rise again and then by the time they make it back to Niall's flat, they're both too tired to do anything but sleep._  
  
X

[After]  
  
_Harry's running as fast as he can, weaving his way through throngs of travelers crowded inside Heathrow Airport. He's out of breath, and his legs are starting to burn and the rest of his body would like nothing more than for him to stop moving altogether – but he can't stop. It's a long shot, coming here, but he can't just_ stop _._

_It's not long before he has to, however, because security won't let him continue past the boarding gate for Ireland without a ticket. He searches frantically, scans faces for a familiar one with bright eyes and beautiful lips. It's the hair – which is typical, Harry supposes – that captures his attention first._

_"Niall!" he yells._

_He waits, with bated breath, for Niall to turn around; ignores the people around him who do instead.  
  
_ _"Niall!" he shouts again. His voice is louder this time; his tone sounds desperate._

_The blond has just handed over his ticket and is being ushered through the metal detectors when he looks up, gaze colliding with Harry's. He looks surprised, even shocked. It melts away quickly though, and is replaced with a look that's a mixture of understanding and sorrow; like he understands why Harry's there, but he isn't going to change his mind.  
  
__And Harry doesn't really expect him to – he had hopes, of course, that he would, but he isn't surprised when Niall lifts his left hand in a wave, or when a small, sad smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, or when Niall walks away. He got what he wanted – a goodbye, and he did what he came here to do because now Niall knows that Harry could have tried to stop him.  
_  
X

[Now]  
  
Harry's reading a book, leaning against the counter separating himself from the rest of the cafe when a blond girl approaches him. She orders off the menu, but doesn't leave when he gives her the drink. Instead, she lingers until Harry asks if he can help her with anything else. 

"It's just, you go to the University of London, right?"

He nods. "I do, yeah."

The girl smiles in relief. "I saw you a few days ago – at least, I'd hoped it was you."

Harry remains confused, eyebrows furrowed together.

"Look, I know this is probably strange and really random, but would you like to have a coffee with me some time?” she asks softly, shyly. “Just – just as friends, I just... Well, I just transferred here from the U.S. and I literally don't know a single person and you seem really nice, so-"

"A coffee with you some time would be lovely," he tells her, smiling gently.

Her eyes widen enthusiastically, and she smiles brightly. "Yeah?"

Harry nods. Sure. Why not? He could use some more friends, right?  
  
X  
  
Harry barely even gets the door open to the flat he now shares with Louis – he’d needed to move out of the one he’d shared with Niall two months after Niall left for Ireland, because everywhere he looked, Niall was there, and it just so happened that Liam had moved in with Sophia the week before – when he calls out for the lad. "Lou!" He kicks off his boots into the closet, before walking down the short hallway towards the living room.

"Harry?” Louis calls out from the kitchen. “Jesus, hang on-"

"So, remember when you told me I needed to get out more?"

Louis comes flying out of the kitchen, and his feet literally skid across the floor as he stops in front of him. "Yes, I-"

"And remember how I said I wasn't interested because everyone was always the same?" Harry continues, sliding past the other boy before he can protest.

"Harry-"

"Well, this girl came into the cafe today and she told me she saw me the other day on campus and then she asked if I would have a coffee with her some time, as friends, and I was gonna say no, but-"

Harry cuts himself off when he comes face-to-face with another blond. He blinks, heart stuck in his throat, as he takes in the boy standing in front of him. "N-Niall,” he breathes.

Niall smiles sheepishly, before averting his gaze as though he's found something more interesting in one of the tiles on the kitchen floor. 

Harry opens his mouth to say something, anything – and then he closes it. He's thought about this a million times over, about what he'd do the first time he saw Niall again. And never, in all those millions of times, did he think he would spin on his heel and walk back the way he came, pushing past Louis as he goes.

Louis calls after him, follows him out of the flat and all the way down the corridor until there's nowhere else to go because Harry has to wait for the elevator. "Harry-"

"You couldn't have warned me, Louis?" He doesn’t look at Louis. He can’t.

"I tried, you just wouldn’t stop talking. And – he showed up, like, 10 minutes before you did. I didn't even have time to think."

Harry groans. "I just made a fucking fool of myself, didn't I?"

Louis shrugs. "A bit, maybe. But that's to be expected, given the circumstances. Where are you going?"

“For a walk, I guess. I dunno.”

“I’ll text you when he leaves.”

As if on cue, the elevator doors open and Harry steps onto it immediately.

Louis reaches out to stop the elevator doors from closing.  "Wait, what were you saying about a girl and coffee?"

Harry shrugs. "It’s not important."

  
X

[Before]  
  
_"Do you have to meet him now?"_

_Harry rolls his eyes. He has to refrain from telling Nick he sounds like a whiney child when he does that; he looks like one too, with that pout of his. "I told him I'd be there at 7."  
  
_ _"Yes – and that leaves plenty of time for a romp beforehand-"  
_

_"Nick, I can't."  
  
_ _"You can. In fact you have before, so why is this one different?"  
  
_ _The younger man sighs. "Because I won't have time to take a shower and it's too risky. Besides, I told him I'd pick us up something to eat on my way over-"  
  
_ _"That sounds disgustingly domestic,” Nick scoffs._

_"It's not domestic, it's just – if I want to get close enough to him to even have a chance at the diamond, I need to make it look like I care,” Harry points out._

_Nick cocks an eyebrow, crosses his arms over his chest. "And do you? ‘Care’, I mean?"  
  
_ _"I care about the diamond."_

_"Do you care about_ Niall _?"  
  
__Harry sighs again. "Can you just stop it, with the third degree? You wanted me to do this, so I'm doing this. I know what I'm doing. Do you trust me or not?"_

 _"I trust you."  
  
__"Good. I have to go."  
  
__Harry lets out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding the second he’s out of the flat. It's been a month – just one month since his and Niall's first date. It's only been a month, and he's already wondering if he, maybe, doesn't know what he's doing at all.  
  
__He likes Niall, is the thing. As in, he genuinely likes spending time with Niall despite knowing it isn't meant to last much longer. Every day, it gets harder and harder to keep lying. And every day, he wonders how hard it’s going to be to say goodbye – or not say anything at all, in this case.  
  
__He hopes that Nick can trust him enough for the both of them.  
_  
X  
  
[Now]  
  
Niall looks sheepish when Louis returns. He leans forward, arms folded over the top of the breakfast nook he’s sitting at. "Is he ok?"

Louis shrugs as he leans against the counter a few feet across from him. "It's hard to tell with him these days, if I'm being honest. Are _you_ ok?"

The blond shrugs as a smirk stretches across his lips. "Same, honestly."

"I'm serious, Nialler. You've been going on and on for the last hour and a half all about Ireland and your family and friends back home and you haven't once talked about yourself."

"There's not much to talk about."

"Well then obviously it didn't work, did it? The whole running-off-to-another-country-to-get-over-him-"

"I didn't run off to get over him,” Niall tells him. “I just...I needed some space. I needed time to think and just be away from him, because I knew if I stayed here I wouldn't have gotten it."

"You mean Harry wouldn't have given it to you."

Niall sighs. "We both know he wouldn't have given it to me. And we both know I would've let him not give it to me."

Louis nods, because he does know that. They _all_ know that.

Niall shrugs, looks down at where he’s been absentmindedly running his right index finger over a knot in the wood of the nook. "I guess, essentially, I ran off because I couldn't let myself forgive him before I was ready. Before we were both ready, really."

"And?” Louis presses. “Have you forgiven him?"

"I've forgiven him, yes. But I haven't forgotten-"

"He'd never ask you to forget, Niall."

"I know,” Niall whispers. “I know he wouldn't."  
  
"So what now, Horan? Where do you go from here?"

"Back to school,” the blond replies, looks back up at the lad across the room. “Life goes on, doesn't it?"

"And what about Harry?"

"I don't owe him anything, Tommo. If I run into him, then I run into him, but I don't-"

"I know you don't owe him anything,” Louis says softly, reaching out to squeeze at Niall’s shoulder. “Even _he_ knows that. But what about what you owe to yourself?"

Niall looks thoughtful for a moment before he answers. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."  
  
X

[Before]  
  
_"So, I've been thinking," Niall says as he walks into Harry’s kitchen.  
  
_

_They’ve been in and out of the bedroom all day, between getting snacks, studying and, well, not studying at all. In fact, it’s going on 6 o’clock in the evening now, and Harry’s decided it’s time for them to eat an actual meal so he’s confined himself to the kitchen for the last half hour. Niall’s not even a little bit ashamed to admit that it’s the first time either of them have worn anything more than a pair briefs all day. Not that that says very much, considering Harry’s still only just wearing a pair of sweatpants. Niall, at least, has borrowed a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt._

_"Yeah? 'bout me, right?" Harry tosses a smirk over his shoulder, where he’s standing in front of the stove.  
  
__Niall rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at his lips anyway. "I want you to meet my friends."  
  
__Harry blinks. His shoulders tense for a fraction of a second. "Your_ friends _..?"  
  
__"Yeah,” Niall says softly. He reaches out to run a hand over Harry’s back. It’s a big step, he knows it is, but it’s been nearly a month now and, well, he thinks they’re probably ready for it. “I have this one friend, Zayn, and he's like...this tortured artist type, y'know? Rough around the edges, been through a lot of shit, but he's got a heart of gold. And Liam, he's got this, like, saviour complex – wants to be a fire fighter and everything. I'm pretty sure if he could be Batman, he choose that in a second though."  
  
__"And you want me to meet them."  
  
__Niall nods. "I also want_ them _to meet_ you _. I mean, if you want."  
  
__Harry’s quiet, looks deep in thought.  
  
__"It's just, they're important to me and you're important to me and if you can charm them – even half as easily as you've charmed me – then meeting my parents will be a walk in the park."_

_Harry smirks. "I've never met the parents before."  
  
_ _Niall raises an eye brow. “Oh?”_

_"There I go putting my foot in my mouth again,” the brunette groans. He pushes himself away from the stove, leaves the chicken and vegetables in the pan on one of the front elements to continue to cook.  
  
_ _"At least your mouth's big enough."  
  
_ _Harry pretends to look offended before his expression softens a moment later, and he reaches out, cups both hands around the back of Niall’s neck. "I'd love to meet your friends,” he whispers, leaning forward to press his forehead against Niall’s. “And I'd love even more to walk in the park with your parents afterwards."_

_"You're such an idiot,” Niall laughs.  
_  
X

[After]  
  
_"Spill,” Sean says as he walks up beside Niall, a pint in each hand. He shuffles into the booth across from, slides one of the pints across the table. “What's this about?"  
  
__"What do you mean?"  
  
__"I know you didn't just come here, Niall. And I know you have a boy in London, so spill."  
  
__Niall shifts uncomfortably, drags a finger through the condensation that’s already built up on the outside of the glass. "Had,” he mutters. “I_ had _a boy in London."  
  
__"So it is about a boy," Sean hums.  
  
__Niall quirks an eyebrow. "Isn't it always about a boy?"_

 _"What happened?"  
  
__The blond sighs. "I can't tell you. Literally, Sean. I_ can’t _tell you."  
  
__His childhood friend raises his own eyebrow. "So, let me get this straight. There's a boy and you're in love with him, he fucks up somehow and hurts you and you can't tell me why. What are you protecting him from?"_

 _"The law, mostly. Also, himself, I guess. I dunno."  
  
__Sean stares at him. “You know, usually when an ex fucks someone over, they’d have no problem handing them over to law enforcement.”  
  
__Niall snorts. "Fucked, innit?"  
  
__Sean smirks. "_ You _said it."_

_Niall rolls his eyes as he takes a large gulp of his pint._

  _I’m here for you, you know that right?”_

_The blond smiles appreciatively. “I know.”_

_"And if you ever get tired of staying with your dear old Nan, I’ve got a pull-out couch with your name on it.”  
_  
X

[Now]  
  
Niall doesn't know why he's here. Doesn't know when he even made the decision to come back. He knows Louis isn’t here, knows he’s taken Eleanor to see a film she’s been dying to see – and he knows who _is_.

The door swings open to reveal a slightly disheveled-looking Harry. He looks like he's just thrown on a pair of sweatpants, his jumper looks slightly out of place and his long, thick hair has been thrown up into messy bun. He's also wearing his reading glasses, the ones Niall got him because _"every hipster needs a pair of hipster reading glasses, Harry. It's, like, a rule or something."_

Harry's eyes are wide when he finally registers that it's Niall standing in front of him. "N-Niall-"

"If you're busy, I can-"

"No, I'm not busy," Harry says quickly. 

Niall isn't sure why, but he half expects a half-naked bloke (or scantily-clad bird) to come out from the bedroom. He’s sort of dreading it, actually.

"I was studying and I guess I fell asleep. Come in."

Niall follows him inside, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans..

"Um, do you want anything?” Harry asks, as he leads Niall down the hall to the living room. “There’s water, or tea-"

"I'm fine, thanks,” Niall murmurs, stands awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “'m not staying long anyway."

Harry nods. He gathers the books that are scattered across the couch and moves them to the coffee table, then motions for Niall to sit down. "So, um, hi," he breathes.

Niall sits down in the furthest corner of the couch away from Harry. He doesn’t even want to sit down, doesn’t want to get ‘comfortable’, but his legs feel a bit like jelly and the last thing he needs is for them to give out in front of Harry. "Hi."

"How are you?” Harry asks softly. He sits on the opposite side of the couch, body turned to face Niall. “How've you been?"

"I'm good. I've been good. You?"

"Good, yeah."

The silence that falls over them is deafening – almost suffocating. One could cut the tension in the room with a butter knife.

"How long have you been back?"

Niall shrugs. "Just a few hours. I went to drop my stuff off at Zayn's and I was gonna hang out with him but he wasn't home so I went to see Lou for a bit instead. I also had to swing by the campus, to talk to the dean. Then I dropped by the studio to see Zayn. And now I'm here."

Harry smiles softly. "I'm glad you're going to finish school. And I'm a bit surprised you're not gonna live with your parents."

Niall scoffs. "There's no way in hell I’m moving back in with my parents."

Harry cocks an eyebrow. "Won't live with your parents but you'll live with your grandmother for nine months?"

Niall smirks. "She may be old, but Nan is way more fun than Bobby and Maura."

"I suppose that's true," Harry chuckles. He’s only met Niall’s nan one time – and he’s pretty well fallen in love with her too.

It strikes Niall how easy it is to fall into, well, conversation with Harry; how easy it is to forget how much it hurts to look at him when they're too busy bantering back and forth.

 Niall clears his throat. "Look, I didn't come to like, make conversation – frankly I don't think I'm ready for that."

"O-ok,” Harry stutters. He nods, picks a loose thread on a throw pillow he has in his lap. “I mean, whatever you're ready for I'll give you. I-"

"I'm not ready for anything at the moment."

Harry blinks.

"I just...I just came to tell you that I forgive you,” Niall whispers.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Harry nods, swallows thickly. "Well thank you. That means a lot."

Niall pushes himself to his feet, then, and Harry does the same. “I should get going. You should get back to studying, or sleeping, or whatever.”

Harry shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Niall walks towards the front door, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. Harry follows, but reaches for the doorknob before Niall does. He pulls the door open, and there’s a moment of complete silence in which neither of them even move – Niall, turned away from Harry, and Harry, with the doorknob still clasped tight between his fingers, the edge of the door digging into his shoulder as he leans on it.

 “It was good to see you,” Harry murmurs. “I’m sorry, about earlier. I was just-“

 “Caught off guard,” Niall finishes, a small, sheepish smile tugs at his lips as he turns to look at him, “I know. I should have told you I was coming back. Should’ve warned you I was going to be here.”

 Harry shrugs.

 “Anyway, I’m gonna-“ he cuts himself off as he motions, with his shoulders, towards the door. “Take care, Harry.”

 “You too.”  
  
X  
  
Niall returns to Zayn's flat to find the man in question sprawled across the couch, drawing in one of his sketch pads. It's typical of Zayn, really, to leave the studio, where he paints all day and night, just to come home and draw some more. It’s nice to know that not everything has changed.

"Hey," he says as he kicks off his shoes. He bends down after to line them up on the mat next to the door. And then he lines up Zayn’s too.

"Hey,” Zayn greets him, despite not looking up from his work. It looks like a super hero of some sort. Or maybe it’s a villain. “You've been out a while."

"Yeah, I uh...I saw Harry." He breathes out harshly, falls into the chair by the window across from Zayn.

"You mean you _went_ to see Harry."

Niall rolls his eyes.

"And?"

"And what? I told him I forgive him, that's it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Zayn finally does look up at him, then, and he folds his arms over top his drawing.

Niall sighs, shifting under Zayn's hard, knowing gaze. "What, Zayn?"

"Tell me why you really went."

"I went to tell him I forgive him,” Niall says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He picks at a callous on his right hand with his left. “Tommo more or less said I owed it to myself, and he was right."

Zayn nods. "Right. Now tell me why you _actually_ went."

"Zayn-"

"We both know a simple ‘I forgive you’ text message would have sufficed, Niall."

Niall pushes himself to his feet, throws a hand through his air. "I wanted to see him, okay?! I missed him and I wanted to see him."

Zayn smiles, settles back against the back of the couch. "There it is."

"We're not getting back together."

"Not yet-"

"Not ever,” Niall snaps, glaring hard at his friend. “I can't get back together with him."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust him."

"But you still love him."

Niall scoffs. "Love is nothing without trust, Zee. And if I can't trust him-"

"You could, though. He's changed, Niall."

The blond snorts. "And how would you know?"

Zayn shrugs. "I've seen him. I've spoken to him. He knows what he did to you and he knows it was awful and if he could do it all over again then-"

"Yeah, well, he can't, Zayn,” Niall mutters. He’s thought about it; doing it all over again. Thinks, if he had the chance, he probably would have left the box alone. “He can't do it all over again – and I won't let him. I refuse to let him hurt me again. I told him I forgive him, and that's as far as it’s gonna go." His voice is firm, sounds promising. And he can only hope that he can keep it that way.  
  
X  
  
Niall walks into the campus library – and he hears Harry before he sees him; hears him laugh that loud, somewhat obnoxious laugh. His gaze follows the sound, lands on where Harry's sitting at a table in the far back, covering his mouth with both hands, eyes wide as he stares at the blond girl beside him. She giggles into her own hands as she shakes her head at him. 

Niall's stomach flips over and his chest tightens. It feels a bit like he's going to be sick or he's going to stop breathing – or maybe he’s going to pass out, he's not sure which. He wishes he could say he didn't know why, that he didn’t have a reason.

He doesn't know what he was expecting for the next time he would encounter Harry – didn't know where or when it would be or who he would be with. He's not even sure he was expecting anything in particular and yet, it definitely wasn't this. Whatever he was expecting – or not expecting, he didn't expect to see Harry smiling, let alone laughing. Didn't expect Harry to look, well, happy. And he didn’t expect it to be because of someone else.

It doesn't sit well with him, even if he does feel guilty about it.   
  
X

[Before]  
  
_Niall walks into the kitchen to help Liam get more drinks. His heart is racing in his chest and his eyes are wide and curious. He’s excited and nervous, both at the same time "So, what do you think?" he asks, taking the two bottles of beer Liam hands him from the fridge._

_"What do I think about what?" Liam wonders. He grabs two more bottles and then kicks the door closed._

_"Harry. What's your verdict?"  
  
_ _Liam smirks. "Like you even need my verdict, you're already bloody in love with the bloke."_

_Niall nudges him in the arm. "Payno."  
  
_ _Liam rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless as he uncaps each bottle with his bare hands. "He's great, Niall."_

_Niall let's out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. "Really?"_

_"Really. He's polite, he seems like a good person-"  
  
_ _"He is," Niall breathes. He doesn’t even attempt to hide the smile that settles itself on his face; he’s entirely too far gone for that. "He almost brought a puppy home with him the other day because he thought it was abandoned – was ready to buy puppy chow and a dog bed and everything. Turned out the pup had just slipped out of his collar and gotten lost."  
  
_ _Liam smiles at that. "He also seems to really care about you. You should see the way he looks at you, Nialler."_

_"Yeah?"  
  
__"Actually, you should see the way_ you _look at_ him _,” the fire fighter in training tells him. He nudges at Niall’s elbow with his own. “He makes you really happy, doesn't he?"  
  
__The blond nods. "He does."  
  
__"Then that's really all that matters, innit? It doesn't matter what I think, it doesn't matter what Zayn thinks – and it doesn't matter what your parents think."  
  
__"Yeah,” Niall whispers, licking his lips. “Yeah, I guess you're right."  
  
__"You know I'm right, so spill. What was this really about?"  
  
__Niall shrugs. "I guess I'm just...scared."  
  
__"Of what?"  
  
__"How bloody_ right _this feels."  
  
__Liam rolls his eyes playfully, as he ruffles Niall’s hair. "You're_ so _in love, Niall. It’s adorable."  
_  
X

[After]  
  
_Everything feels wrong.  
  
__Niall tries to focus; tries to focus on the lips nipping at his Adam's apple, at the hands groping his ass, at the long, hard dick creating friction against his own. He tries to be into it, tries turn off his brain and put away his heart so he can just feel things with his body. He wants this – he probably even needs this. And yet-  
  
__"Stop," Niall mutters, pushing gently at broad shoulders whilst simultaneously pushing himself out from under the body on top of him. "Brez, stop – I can't-"  
  
__Breslin pulls his face away from the curve Niall’s neck. His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out, his cheeks are flushed and his lips are a bit red and slick. He looks hot – and Niall is fucking frustrated with himself because of it. "What's the matter?" he pants.  
  
__"I just...I can't,” Niall whispers. “Not tonight." Perhaps not ever.  
  
__"Is – are you ok? Did I-"  
  
__"No, it's just – it's complicated, Bressie." It’s also sort of pathetic, when he allows himself to think about it. It’s entirely_ too _pathetic and frustrating – mentally and emotionally, as well as physically – that he can’t even think about getting off with someone else, let alone being able to do it himself. It’s just another thing to the list of reasons he really fucking hates Harry Styles. "I should go,” he mutters. He slips out of the bed, grabs his jeans off the floor where Bressie had dropped them only moments before._

 _Bressie blinks. "You don't have to go, Nialler."  
  
__Niall moves away when the bloke, clad only in a tight pair of briefs that leave next to nothing to Niall’s imagination, reaches for him. He can’t stay. How is he supposed to_ sleep _beside somebody else when he can’t even bring himself to have sex with them? "I do, I have to go. I'm sorry."  
  
__He scolds himself after he flees, has half a mind to turn the car around and let Bressie fuck him, to_ make _himself get lost in it. Instead, he drives back to his Nan’s house and crawls into bed. He’s so exhausted that he doesn’t even have the energy to cry himself to sleep tonight._

 _+  
  
Two weeks later he does let Bressie fuck him. And he doesn’t tell Brez, but he regrets it immediately after.  
_  
X

[Now]  
  
Niall returns home to find Liam sitting in the living room. He greets Liam, and Liam tells him that he was supposed to meet Zayn here an hour ago – but Zayn has a habit of getting caught up in the studio, which is another thing that hasn’t changed, and he’s grateful for it. They talk for a bit; Liam tells him about how his training is going, and Niall tells him that his first week back at school has been a breeze – that he actually sort of…missed it. Liam tells him how things are going with Sophia, whom he’s living with now, how his parents are, that his sister just got engaged, and it’s just like old times.

And then Niall can’t help himself. He tells Liam about seeing Harry with a blond girl in the school café and the question is out of his mouth before he can stop it.

“As far as I know, he isn’t seeing anyone,” Liam replies.

“He was talking about a girl the other day, before he noticed I was there. He mentioned going out for coffee with her.”

“Did he say it was a date?”

Niall shrugs. “He said it was as friends, but, like, it’s Harry.”  
  
Liam looks thoughtful for a moment. And then he points the remote at the TV and pauses the show he’s watching. Niall knows he’s probably in trouble somehow. "Maybe... Maybe it's time you stopped punishing him and just move forward."

Niall blinks, taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not punishing him-"

"You are, though,” Liam replies softly. “Like, maybe you're not doing it on purpose – or you just don't see that you are, but you are, Niall."

"I told him I forgive him."

"You've forgiven him, but you haven't moved forward. You've forgiven him, but you won't speak to him. You've forgiven him, but you still treat him like the person who stole your family's diamond, Niall. If you've forgiven him, then you need to let that go."

Niall glares at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Why are you so protective of him?” he demands. “I mean, I get Louis, because they've known each other forever – but _you and Zayn_? You’re supposed to be on _my_ side.”

Liam sighs. "We _are_ on your side, we’ve always been on your side. But you didn't see him after you left. It nearly killed him."

"You don't think it killed me too?” Niall scoffs. “It was like my heart was ripped from body, Liam, and I couldn't get it back."

"I know. I know that, Niall. But..."

"'But' what?” Niall pushes himself to his feet when Liam hesitates. “C'mon, 'but' what?" he presses.

"Nothing. Never min-"

"No, tell me. You said it nearly killed him – what does that mean?"

"Just tell him, Liam."

Niall whirls around to look at Zayn, who's standing in the doorway. He watches the artist place his backpack on the floor, watches him toe off a black pair of combat boots before he joins them in the living room – all the while, it’s like he and Liam are having some sort of telepathic conversation. He looks back and forth between them.

"We promised we wouldn't say anything,” Liam reminds him out loud, a moment later. “We gave him our word-"

The blond scowls. "Someone needs to tell me what the fuck-"

"Harry overdosed," Zayn tells him. He tears his gaze away from Liam and it lands on Niall.

Niall blinks, and it's like everything around him just...stops. His heartbeat, his breathing, the _world_. It’s like the floor shifts beneath him, and everything inside him turns to stone. "W-what? What are you – no, Harry doesn't do drugs. He drinks sometimes, but other than that his body is like a temple to him, he wouldn't have-"

"He was really messed up, Niall,” Zayn explains softly, calmly. How fuck is Zayn so calm right now? “You had left him, Nick had disappeared – and he didn't think he deserved to be able to talk to us so he didn't."

"No, but-" Niall starts to stutter, but then his breath catches in his throat. His eyes are burning with the fight to hold back tears and his chest hurts.

Zayn looks a bit somber as he reaches out to place his hand on Niall’s shoulder. "Louis called me at 4 o'clock in the morning, maybe two months after you left, in a right panic because Harry had gone out to the pubs the way he'd made a habit of doing every other night, and he hadn't come home. He sounded really upset and really scared, said that he was always back by 2:30 at the latest. Said he'd called Harry's phone so many times, with no answer, that it must have died because the calls eventually stopped going through.

"So I called Liam and the three of us spent two hours looking for the bastard before Louis' phone rang and it was the damn hospital. The nurse said that he'd been dropped off a couple hours before by a dark-haired bloke who wouldn't give his name and then just took off; said Harry had overdosed on a bunch of pills and alcohol and that they'd pumped his stomach. She said when he first woke up that he kept asking for a bloke named Niall but when she asked him who she should call he said Louis.

"So, needless to say, we wound up at the hospital-"

It’s a bit violent, how Niall shrugs off Zayn’s hand. He pushes a hand into Zayn’s chest, and then pushes both hands through his hair. He feels like he’s going to be sick. "How could you not tell me that? How could _not one_ of the three of you have told me?"

Liam frowns. "He made us promise we wouldn't tell you."

"And you listened to him,” Niall scoffs. “I dunno which is worse." He whirls around, then, and makes a beeline for the front door despite the fact that his legs are shaking beneath him.

"Where – Niall, where are you going?"

"Where the fuck do you think?" Niall growls. He shoves his feet back into his shoes, yanks a jacket out of the closet – he’s not even entirely sure it’s his, it might be Zayn’s – and then the door slams closed behind him.  
  
X  
  
Niall shoves him, hard in the chest, the moment Harry opens the door before shoving past him. He doesn’t take off his – Zayn’s – jacket, doesn’t even remove his shoes as he stalks all the way into the living room. Harry’s hot on his heels when he turns around. "You're a fucking asshole," spits Niall.

Harry blinks. He stands in front of Niall looking taken aback and confused, maybe even a little bit worried. "What – I don't-"

"How could you be so fucking stupid – so _careless_?" Niall hisses.

Harry continues to look genuinely confused, eyebrows furrowed. "Niall-"

"I _know_. I know you overdosed – and I know you made the lads promise not to tell me."

Harry sighs. He takes a step forward, but the blond pushes him back with fists against his shoulders. "Niall-"

"How could you? You could have _died_ and you made them promise not to tell me what happened."

"Well obviously if I had died then I wouldn't have been able to make them promise-"

"Don't,” Niall snaps. “Don't fucking joke about this, Harry. You downed a bunch of fucking pills and chased it down with alcohol, you don't get to joke about it."

Harry licks his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again. Niall wants to hit him. He _should_ hit him. Harry deserves it.

"Why?" Niall demands, instead.

"Why what?"

"Why'd you do it?"

"It's not like I was trying to kill myself,” Harry whispers. He’s looking down, avoiding Niall’s gaze. “I was just...I was out and I was having a good time. I was really drunk – _so_ drunk and I didn't even know what I was doing. Someone just kept handing me pills and...I just kept taking them."

Niall blinks, folds his arms over his chest. "That's it? You were ‘having a good time’? _That's_ the reason?"

Harry nods, albeit sheepishly.

"You're an _asshole_! You're fucking stupid, and – and irresponsible! What the fuck, Harry!"

"I told you-"

"Except you didn't tell me,” Niall spits. His tone is venomous, even to his own ears, and he can feel the tips of his ears getting hot with anger. “You didn't tell me a damn thing and you didn't let anyone else tell me. So now you're going to tell me why. _Why_ would you keep that from me?"

Harry snorts, and shakes his head. "What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to let _them_ say? 'By the way, Niall, Harry's been so much of a mess since you left that he's gone and landed himself in the hospital and now they want to keep for a few days to make sure he isn't _actually_ suicidal'? Because that would've gone over so well."

"All you – or they – had to do was tell me you were hurt!" The thought of something bad happening to Harry, and him not being here, whether there was anything he could do to help or not, makes him feel sick. But the thought of losing him, and him not being here… Well, he’s not sure he would have ever been able to come back from that.

"And what good would that have done?” Harry sighs. He finally – _finally_ – looks Niall in the eyes. “Either you would've come back before you were ready to because I was a selfish bastard who couldn't keep a lid on his own feelings, or you wouldn't have come at all and it would've been made clear to me that you didn't care anymore."

Niall remains silent. Part of him wants to tell Harry that he would have come back – _of course_ he would have; of course he _cares_. The other part of him would like nothing more than to hit him, still.

"I can't believe they told you,” Harry mutters.

"I made them. Besides, someone had to and it obviously wasn't going to be you."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made them promise not to."

"I don't know which part I'm more furious with – the fact that you were so stupid and irresponsible enough to let it happen or the fact that nobody told me."

Harry groans. "I didn't _mean_ to, it just happened."

Niall shakes his head. "An _overdose_ isn't something that just happens, Harry."

"I didn't do it on purpose-"

"I'm not saying you did, I'm just saying-"

"You _left_ , Niall,” Harry says. His voice is shaky, and his eyes are watery. He looks uncertain, like he isn’t sure he wants to say what he’s about to say “I wanted to work things out, I wanted to move past it but you left – you left because it was the only way you knew how to cope with what I did to you. To _us_. I turned to partying every other night and bringing home blokes that looked like you so I could torture myself over and over and over again for what I did."

"The difference is that your way of coping almost got you killed,” Niall points out. He can’t bring himself to acknowledge the comment about ‘bringing home blokes that look like him’. "Did you even think, at all, about what that would've done to people? To your mum, your sister, Louis? _Me_?"

"Of course I thought about it,” Harry snaps, eyes narrowed in a glare. “I'm not _that_ selfish."

"Did you not care?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Evidently, not enough."

Niall doesn’t know what to say. If there’s even anything left to say. He doesn’t know what to do – not with his hands, not with himself, not with Harry or this conversation. He doesn’t know where they’re supposed to go from here. He does know he wants it to end, though. "I um, I should – I should go."

"You- Do you have to?” Harry whispers, taking a step forward. He reaches a hand out for Niall, but then pulls it back like he’s thought better of it. “We could, I dunno, just... _talk_ , you know? We haven't talked in ages, and I just – I just want to talk."

"I need a bit more time,” Niall whispers.

Harry frowns, but nods all the same. "Yeah, okay."

 “I’m, um – I’m glad you’re okay,” the blond says softly, albeit awkwardly. The whole thing feels awkward now; being _here_ feels awkward now.

 Harry blinks. “Thanks.”

Niall remembers, then, what Liam told him; _Maybe it's time you stop punishing him and move forward._ "We'll go out for drinks some time, yeah? With the lads. You still do that?"

"From time to time, yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Niall smiles weakly. "Goodnight, Harry."

 He decides to walk back to Zayn’s flat, thinks he could use the fresh air to clear his head. So much has happened in the last couple of hours alone, that he feels nothing except exhaustion. He knew coming back was going to be hard, and he knew that dealing with the fallout between him and Harry was going to be even harder – but he didn’t think it was going to be _this_ difficult.  
  
X

[Before]  
  
_"Go.”_

_"No."  
  
_ _"Haz, Bambi, you have to go,” Niall murmurs, lips brushing against Harry’s as the brunette leans in to kiss him. He chuckles as he pushes gently at Harry’s shoulders, before bringing a hand up in between their mouths. Harry pouts, but kisses Niall’s palm nonetheless. “It's your final final, you have to do it."  
  
_ _Harry smirks suggestively. "But I'd rather just do you."_

_Niall rolls eyes. "You did me last night. And earlier this morning. And you can do me after your midterm, if you think you did well enough."_

_A smug grin settles on Harry’s lips as he tilts his head. "Are you trying to role-play me, Mr. Horan?"_

_"Maybe,” Niall smirks, pushing his boyfriend towards the door of his –_ their _flat. They’d moved Niall’s things in just the other week and Niall’s still getting used to it. Living with his parents was nice and all – he’d had his own wing, after all, so it was almost exactly like living on his own anyway, but there’s something really endearing about ‘shaking it up’ with Harry in his much smaller flat. Also, he really likes waking up in the mornings now. “Is it working?"_

_"Doesn't it always?"  
  
_ _The blond laughs. "Go."  
  
_ _Harry groans. "Fine,” he mutters, before whirling around face Niall whilst standing in the doorway. “Kiss me first though."  
  
_ _Niall does as he's told, presses his lips softly and delicately against Harry’s – and then pulls away before Harry even has the chance to try and deepen it. The last thing Harry needs is to be late for his last final of the year. "Love you,” he whispers.  
  
_ _They both freeze. They stare at each other across the threshold with wide eyes.  
  
_ _Niall can feel the heat in body rising, feels it pool in his cheeks. He feels a bit like he’s going to throw up. His stomach turns over, his head feels a bit dizzy, and he can feel his heart beating in his temples. "I didn't – that wasn't... I wasn't supposed to say it like that,” he says. It’s not so much that he wishes he could take it back – because how can he wish he could take back something he means, something he feels? It’s just, well- “I was – it was supposed to be more romantic than that; that was rubbish. I'm sorry."  
  
_ _"Niall-"  
  
_ _"And you don't have to say it back,” he says urgently. “I don't expect you to say it back, I just – that's how I feel. That's how I've felt for, well, ages, I guess, but I understand if you aren't-"  
  
_ _"I love you too, Niall." Harry’s voice is soft, yet simultaneously firm enough to break through Niall’s babbling.  
  
_ _Niall blinks, stares at the dark-haired boy in front of him. He’s a bit taken aback by the genuine gleam in Harry’s eyes, but maybe he shouldn’t be. "Yeah?" he breathes._

_Harry smiles, reaches his right hand out to stroke the back of his knuckles across Niall’s cheek. "I love you."  
  
_ _Niall surges forward, and lock his lips with Harry's. Again. Only this time it’s deeper. This time there’s tongues and a little bit of teeth and there’s a breathless gasp and a deep, husky moan – and Niall’s not quite sure who makes which sound, but it doesn’t matter. It’s the way his heart beats fast and hard, like it’s trying to get to Harry’s heart that matters. "I love you," he murmurs again, breathlessly._

_"Say it again,” Harry whispers.  
  
_ _"I love you."_

_"One more time."  
  
__Niall tosses his head back with a short laugh before he presses his lips, just one more time, again Harry’s. "I love you, ya big goof. Now go."_  
  
X

  
[After]

_Niall avoids listening to his voicemail the whole first week he’s in Mullingar. The thing is, there’s only one person he hasn’t answered the phone for since he upped and left, and, well, until now, he hadn’t been ready. He’s not even entirely sure he’s ready now, but he feels like he has to be. He should be. He has to be._

_He’s sitting alone in the living room of his grandmother’s house, Mrs. Horan having gone to bed ages ago. It’s quiet here, especially at night. Living in London has made him forget how peaceful the quiet can feel. It’s nice._

_It’s also sort of deafening, though. Like now. He’s spent the last several hours watching mind-numbing TV he doesn’t remember anything about, and avoiding having to go out for a pint with Sean, and trying to work up the courage to delete the messages – all five of them – in his voicemail so he doesn’t have to listen to them._

_Try as he might, however, he can’t talk himself into it. Nor can he talk himself into not wanting to hear Harry’s voice._

_His thumb shakes as he presses the app icon to get into his voicemail, and he finds himself holding his breath._

“Hi… Um, it’s me – Harry.” _Harry’s voice is soft, and a bit shaky. He sounds nervous. He’s never, not once, introduced himself when leaving Niall a message._ “I just wanted to check in, make sure you got in alright. I um – I wasn’t expecting you to stop, at the airport – not really, so…thank you for that.” _He pauses, then, and Niall hears his sharp intake of breath._ “God, Niall, I don’t – this is so hard. I’m not – that’s not me trying to make you feel bad, I promise, I just…I just miss you.”

_Niall picks a frayed string on a whole in his jeans with his fingers, sniffs back tears._

“Anyway, I’m sure you got in just fine. Not that it’s any of my business. Just…shoot me a text or something, yeah? Or text Lou, for me? I know you don’t owe me anything and I don’t have any right to ask anything of you, I just want to know you’re safe. I need to know you’re safe. I love you. Bye.”

_Niall remembers texting Louis shortly after he got settled in one of the bedrooms upstairs, knowing full-well that he’d pass the message along to Harry – and, maybe, secretly wanting him to._

_He deletes the message when prompted a moment later, takes a deep breath, and then listens to the others. Harry rambles awkwardly every single time. And every single time, Harry tells Niall he loves him._

_+_

_During the first three months, Harry leaves a message every other day. He tells Niall he loves him at the end of every message, and then pauses, for exactly two seconds, before he hangs up. Every time. Like clockwork._

_And Niall listens every time, but he never calls back. He can’t force himself to answer, and he can’t bring himself to call back._

“Hey, Niall,” _Harry’s voice is nothing but a murmur. There’s a tiny bit of an echo, like he’s standing in a stairwell or in a bathroom, but it’s not the echo that captures his attention as much as it is Harry’s raspy slur. He’s drunk. Harry has a tendency to get a bit emotional when he’s drunk. “_ I, u-um – I fucking miss you, Niall. I miss you so much. I… Nothing’s the same here – everything’s different. I want you to come back. I want you to come back and I want us to figure this out and – I almost bought a plane ticket today, Niall. To Ireland. Only I didn’t because I couldn’t bear the thought of you rejecting me – again. That, and Louis promised to disown me if I did. He’s probably just bluffing – I mean, he’s Lou, you know? But he’s the only friend I left after… I don’t want him to disown me, Niall. I – I love you, okay? I love you.”

_+_

_It’s the ‘I love you’s’ that hit him the hardest because, try as he might for the opposite, he feels them too. He hears them – hears Harry’s voice, all soft, and genuine, and loving, sometimes desperate – and his heart breaks just a little bit more; in part because he remembers a time when he could say it back, but also because, as the months wear on, those three little words sound more and more…distant coming out of Harry’s mouth._

_Harry still means them, Niall knows this. He can tell by the way Harry’s breath hitches either before or after every time he says. It’s just that with every one of Harry’s ‘I love you’s’, he sounds more and more distant. Like he’s withdrawing. Like he’s lost himself some place. Sometimes he sounds entirely numb. And it scares Niall, a little bit, if he’s honest with himself._

_And he knows he shouldn’t care, knows he’d have every right not to. He ignores the little voice in the back of his head that tells him he shouldn’t even be listening to Harry’s messages, that he doesn’t owe it to Harry to listen to him. Except it’s less about he doesn’t owe Harry, and more about what Niall needs._

“N-Niall…” _Harry’s voice his harsh and raspy. He sounds a little bit broken, and the thought of it tugs at Niall’s heart._ “I get it, y’know. Why you left… Why you could hardly stand to look at me… Why you won’t call me back… If – if I could get away from me too, I would. I’d run so far away that I’d never find my way back. I want to run away, Niall. I want… I want you to come home so badly. I want you to come home, Niall. I…I love you… Even if you don’t love me back anymore, I love you.”  
  
X  
X

[Now]  
  
Harry's nervous when he and Louis arrive at the pub. His heart is racing, his stomach feels a bit queasy, and his hands are shaking slightly. He freezes outside the door when he sees Niall through the window. 

Niall, who laughs, and throws his head back at something Zayn says. Niall, who smiles like he swallowed the sun when Liam ruffles his hair. Niall, who looks so fucking gorgeous wearing a white, button down t-shirt with little palm trees all over it, and a pair of glasses.

"What are you-"

"Maybe I shouldn't,” Harry says, shoving his hands into his pockets. He continues to watch Niall through the window, half mesmerized, half paralyzed with fear. “Maybe I should just go home."

Louis sighs. "Harry-"

"I just-"

"It's _fine_ , Harry. Niall's the one that said you should come, anyway,” his friend says flippantly.

Harry groans. "I know, Lou, but-"

"Just shut up and get your ass inside. Nobody's ever won back an ex by completely avoiding them."

"I'm not – that isn't-" Harry sputters.

Louis rolls his eyes dramatically, as he pushes Harry through the door. "You _are_ avoiding him and that _is_ what you would like, so shut the fuck up and _get your ass inside_."

Harry obeys. He’s in front of the booth Zayn, Liam and Niall have chosen before he even has time to process how he got there. He greets them, whilst Louis throws himself into the booth beside Liam before volunteering to get the first round of drinks.

Niall follows him.

"How've you been?" the blond asks, as leans forward on the top of the bar while they wait for the bloke behind the counter to get them a round.

Harry shrugs as he drums his fingers over the wood. "Alright. You?"

"Good."

The brunet nods, and then takes to watching the bartender work. He’d thought, once, about applying for a job as a bartender – or at the very least, a waiter – but then he got the job in the café/bakery and, well, he’d rather make lattes/pastries part time anyway.

 It’s easier not to look at Niall; easier to forget about the fact that his hands are sweating – and not from the heat being turned up too high in the pub, either.

"We can be friends, right?"

Harry finally looks at him. "I mean, we've never been friends before." He doesn’t count the few weeks between meeting Niall and asking him out on a date as the two of them being ‘friends’ because, well, they were hardly _just_ friends.

"But we've been boyfriends, so it should be fine,” Niall points out. “It should be _easier_ than being boyfriends. Right?"

Harry shrugs. He's not so sure, is the thing. Because how do you go from being in love with someone, making love to someone, and being intimate with someone, to being _just_ friends? "Yeah," he says instead. "Yeah, we can be friends. How hard can it be?"

 “Right,” Niall nods.

Harry carries three drinks, whilst Niall carries two, back to the table. They slide into opposite sides of the booth, sit face-to-face. Once upon a time they might have played footsie under the table, or held pinkies between them, despite the playfully disgusted looks and comments from the lads. _“It’s lads night, lads. Stop acting like a couple for five minutes, please,”_ Louis used to say.

Louis cheers loudly now, raises his glass in a toast. "Just like old times, aye boys!"

Liam and Zayn follow suit, shouting and hollering their approval, followed by Niall and then Harry, who sneaks a glance across the table for Niall's reaction – because this isn't like _old times_ at all, bless Louis' heart. 

And if anybody else notices the way Niall blatantly avoids having to look at Harry during the toast, nobody says anything.  
  
X  
  
As it turns out, being friends is a lot easier than Harry thought it would be – it's like being boyfriends just, without the kissing and the hand-holding and then generally just acting like a couple. In a way it's nothing like being boyfriends. And it's only easy when he convinces himself that the feelings clogging up his chest aren't really there, that it's a figment of his imagination. Basically, it isn’t easy at all, but it is easier to pretend.

It's going on three weeks of the ‘ _we-can-be-friends’_ thing when it almost comes to a head. They're playing two-on-two footie in the football field on campus one Monday afternoon; Harry and Niall are on one team, Louis and Liam on the other.

Harry and Niall are winning.

"How the fuck do the two of you always manage to fucking win? One of you has a bum knee and the other can't even stand on two feet on _flat_ ground," Louis grumbles after Niall gets the ball between the makeshift goal made from Louis' and Liam's bags in the grass,

Niall grins widely, as he reaches out to Harry for a high-five. "I think the better question is how the fuck the two of _you_ always manage to lose, aye, Bambi?"

Harry freezes at the nickname, and it’s like his blood runs cold. His heart skips a beat in his chest. And judging by the sudden tenseness in Niall's shoulders, Niall is also quite taken aback by it. Harry swallows the lump in his throat. "Right, yeah. Even with our disadvantages, we're still the winning team."

"Well, I'm knackered and I'm hungry. Who's up for some cafeteria food, lads?" Liam asks, coming to the rescue.

"Could do with a burger, meself," Louis replies. "Lads?"

Niall frowns. "I have class in an hour," he says. "And I'm meeting up with this guy, Josh, beforehand."

Louis scoffs, but nudges Niall’s shoulder playfully. "Harold?"

"Can't, I picked up a shift at work."

“Guess it’s just you and me, Payno.”

“You and I,” Liam sing-songs. Harry doesn’t understand the reference, or why it’s supposed to funny, but Louis laughs – it’s clearly a Louis&Liam inside joke – as they start walking away.

"Sorry, about before," Niall says softly. He bends down to pick up his bag, swings the strap over his shoulder. "I wasn't thinking, I guess."

Harry frowns, because since when does Niall apologize for using an old nickname? He, too, grabs his bag off the floor and swings the strap over his shoulder, lets it hang at his side. "I wasn't – I'm not-"

"I know, it's just... It's weird, is what it is,” Niall whispers. Harry can tell by Niall’s voice that he, too, feels a certain level of discomfort in this whole _friends_ thing, and there’s a relief in that that makes Harry feel just a little bit better about himself.

"That's one way of putting it."

Niall tips his head in the direction Harry has to walk in to get to the café. "I'll walk with you." The building his class is in is on the way to where Harry needs to get to catch the tube anyway.

Harry smiles softly. "Thanks."

"How's that going, by the way? Work, I mean."

"It's good. Keeps me busy when I don't have class, pays the bills – you now, the usual."

Niall nods, albeit absentmindedly. "And you're not, uh-"

"No,” Harry replies quickly, honestly. “I don't even talk to anyone from that...world anymore."

"Not even Nick?"

Harry shrugs. "Was for a while after he left, but – not in ages. I couldn’t even tell you where he is now."

"Do you miss him?"

"I miss that friendship, I guess, but...not really."

Niall nods again, but this time he remains quiet after. He stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans as they walk, and doesn’t say another word about it.

Harry, however, has other plans, because there’s a question he needs answered; one that’s been on his mind for ages. "Why didn't you turn us in?"

Niall stops walking for a fraction of a second before he continues. He keeps his gaze up, looking straight ahead, pointedly ignoring Harry’s own gaze. "You know why I didn't turn you in,” he mutters. “And there was no way I could turn _him_ in without you going down with him."

"You had every right to."

"I know."

And that’s all Harry decides he’s allowed to chance. Niall’s right in that he knew the answer, he just needed to hear it for his own piece of mind.

 All too soon, they reach Niall’s building.

Niall adjusts the way his bag is sitting on his back, as he turns to head up the staircase. "I gotta go, but I'll see you this weekend, yeah?"

Harry nods. "Yeah. See you."

He tries to ignore the way his heart constricts when, a couple seconds later, he turns around at the sound of someone calling Niall’s name from a distance to see a bloke running towards the building to catch up with him.  
  
X

Louis is on the phone when Harry gets home several hours later. He can tell, just by the softness in Louis’ voice, that he’s talking to Eleanor, so he enters the flat quietly. He takes off his boots and places them neatly at the front door, shrugs off his jacket and hangs it in the front closet, and then walks past Louis into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge.

Harry sits in a chair in the corner of the room, drapes one leg over the arm and kicks his other up to rest his foot on the coffee table.

Louis looks at him, frowns, and then sighs softly before he tells Eleanor he loves her and hangs up. “Out with it,” Louis says, tossing his phone onto the cushion next to him.

"Niall asked me about Nick."

Louis raises an eyebrow a curious eyebrow. "What about him?"

"If I still talked to him."

"And? Do you?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "I haven't spoken to him in ages, Lou. You know that."

"Just making sure." Louis shrugs.

"Why would he ask me that?" Harry asks thoughtfully, brows furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, I _told_ him that Nick took off without me. I told him I was going to leave that life behind and that included Nick. He knew that-" He cuts himself off when Louis shakes his head. “What?”

"He didn't know anything, Harry,” Louis sighs. “In the days after he found out that you stole his family heirloom, he didn't know anything except that everything he thought he knew felt like a lie. You could have tried to brainwash him with it and he still wouldn't have believed you.

"Besides, Nick's always been sort of a sore spot for him."

Harry looks confused. He places both of his feet on the floor, leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "W-what do you mean?"

Louis exhales deeply through his nose. "You may never have come right out and said it, that the two of you used to fuck around, but everyone knew it, Harry. Even Niall. He knew you had some kind of a past with him, he was just too afraid to talk to you about it."

"But he talked to _you_ about it," Harry concludes.

"Well, I mean, only a few times, but yes."

"What did he say? What did you tell him?"

Louis shrugs. "I dunno what you want me to tell you, mate. He just, he didn't trust Nick around you, always talked about the way Nick looked at you – and I always told him that he didn't have anything to worry about."

"He was worried though. He thought I would cheat on him."

"No, he – Harry. He never thought you would cheat."

Harry’s brows furrow together in confusion. "Then what did he think?"

Louis looks like he’s about to speak, takes a breath like he’s going to, but then he hesitates.

Harry feels sort of desperate. "Lou, please, just-"

"He _worried_ that you would choose Nick over him if Nick ever got around to doing some kind of grand gesture."

Harry blinks. "H-He said that?"

"I mean, only once or twice, and only because he was drunk. He didn't – it was never anything serious for him though, it was just, like, a thought every now and again, you know?"

"Every now and again, or every time I was with Nick?"

"Hazza-"

"No, don't, I – I get it,” Harry mutters, pushing himself to his feet. “And now I get part of why it was so hard for him when he found out I betrayed him and took the diamond. It was more or less me choosing Nick over him – even if it wasn't, not technically." He finds himself grabbing his jacket out of the closet again, and shoving his feet back into his boots before he grabs the key to Louis’ car off the hook on the back of the door.

"Wh- Harry, what are you doing?"

"I have to talk to him."

Louis sighs loudly as he too pushes himself to his feet. "Harry-"

The rest of Louis’ protest is cut off by the sound of the door slamming shut behind Harry as he walks out.  
  
X  
  
Niall blinks when sees Harry standing in front of him after he opens the door.

Harry smiles weakly, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey," he murmurs.

"Harry, hey."

Niall's greeting is followed by loud noises – laughs and hollers coming from somewhere in the living room behind him. Two voices. Neither of which sound at all like Zayn, or even Liam.

Harry quirks an eyebrow as he tries to ignore the way his heart clenches in his chest. "Are you busy? Do you have people over?"

"No, I – I was just talking to some friends on Skype."

"Oh. Should I come back, or-"

Niall shakes his head as he steps back, opens the door wider. "Nah, it’s fine. I'll just end the call."

"Are you sure?” Harry asks gently, despite the fact that he takes Niall’s invitation. “Because I can-"

"Harry, it’s fine."

"Oi, Nialler!" a distinctly Irish accent calls out from where Niall's laptop is perched upon the kitchen counter. "Is that your _posh boy_ I hear in the background?"

Niall's face immediately turns red as he walks ahead of him to get to the laptop. He stands directly in front of the screen as though to keep Harry seeing it – or maybe it’s to keep whoever is on the other end from seeing Harry. Either way, Harry doesn’t see anything. "You're an idiot, Sean. Shut up."

"I'm tellin' Brez," another voice teases.

"You're both fucking horrible,” Niall scowls. “Goodbye." 

Harry watches him sign off before he closes the lid of the laptop.

“Want something to drink?” Niall asks.

“No, thank you.”

Niall grabs himself a glass of water before he turns around to look at him.

"Am I allowed to ask who ‘Brez’ is?"

Niall blinks, shifts uncomfortably. "He's a...he's just a lad I know from back home."

Harry quirks an eyebrow. "A lad, or a _lad_?"

"Harry."

"I'm just – I'm not mad, I just-"

"Good,” Niall snaps. “You don't get to be mad. Not when _you_ went around and slept with half of London, apparently. You don’t get to be mad, Harry."

The brunette frowns.

Niall sighs. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I didn't mean to say that."

"No, I deserve it,” Harry admits.

"If you must know, I did sleep with him a couple times,” Niall mutters. “That's all it was. That's all it was ever gonna be. Sean and Darragh were just taking the piss."

Harry remains silent, because Niall is right – he doesn’t have a right to mad. Or upset. He doesn’t even have a right to be _hurt_.

"Look, that's obviously not what you came here for, so-"

"Right,” Harry nods. “Um, I just – I wanted to talk to you about Nick."

Niall groans. He rolls his eyes as he walks past Harry hovering in the doorway to enter the living room. "I don't want to talk about Nick."

"I think we should, though,” the brunette says softly. He follows Niall into the room, sits across from Niall on the couch. “I think it's the only way we'll be able to move past it."

Niall doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares at the glass he’s nursing in his hands.

"I never cheated on you – not with him, or anyone else."

The blond blinks before lifting his gaze. He looks at Harry, but still doesn’t say anything.

"I stopped sleeping with him entirely after our first date. I mean, at first it was because I didn't want to run the risk of getting caught-"

"And blowing up your big plan before you could really get it in, right?” Niall spits. His voice is saturated with a bitterness that Harry as never heard from him before. He hates it.

"Yes – yeah,” Harry whispers. He runs a hand through his hair, then rests his elbow on the back of his couch and leans the side of his head on his hand. Niall’s watching him, waiting. And it’s like the floodgates are open; Harry has to finally tell him the truth. “But then something changed a month later – something in me; something that made my heart soar every time I looked at you, something that brought butterflies to life in my stomach every time you smiled and every time you laughed, something that made me feel... _special_ every time you looked at _me_. I tried to deny it for a long time, kept telling Nick I wouldn’t sleep with him because we couldn't afford to get caught. He used to get really frustrated whenever I blew him off to spend time with you and I'd tell him it was because I had to but I think we both knew it was because I genuinely _wanted_ to.

"That's why I said that I hadn't played you for 12 months when you asked me. Because even if I couldn't admit it to myself, at first, it was true. And I never – Nick was never a thought, he was never even a temptation after that. So just...know that I never cheated on you. And I wouldn't have chosen him if he had asked me to."

"Except you did, Harry,” Niall mutters. “You chose him the moment you stole the diamond."

"Technically, yes, but-"

"Was it, or was it not, the plan for you to run away with him once you had it?"

Harry nods. "That was the plan, yes. But then I fell in love with you, Niall, and the only place I wanted to be was with _you_."

Niall snorts, narrows his eyes in response. "Then why would you take it? If you knew you were in love with me, why did you take it anyway?"

"Because I was stupid. Because it was supposed to be my job. Because the opportunity was there, the night of your parents' dinner party – there were plenty of distractions, I knew I could get in and get out without being caught, and I knew that if I didn't do it while I had the chance, I wouldn't do it at all.

"All I had to do after that was take it to Nick. That's all I had to do once I got my hands on it – but then I couldn't do it."

Niall closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. "Stop."

"I couldn't because I knew what it meant-"

"Stop-"

"It meant betraying you more than I already had. It meant hurting you. It meant _leaving_ you, and I couldn't do that – I couldn’t do any of it."

"And yet you kept it,” Niall hisses. He slams his glass on the coffee table in front of him, and then ignores the fact that water splashes over the rim as he pushes himself to his feet. “You kept it for _two months_ Harry!"

Harry takes a deep breath, and licks his lips. "I didn't know how to put it back,” he admits, sitting forward while Niall whirls back around to face him. He holds Niall’s fiery gaze. “I was just – I couldn't just request that we go see your parents and put it back, it would've been too suspicious. I had to wait for a better time."

Niall scoffs. "Right. Because a better time would've come up."

"I know how it looks,” Harry murmurs. “I know how it sounds. I know it seems like I chose Nick over you, but I didn't."

"You did. You only chose me as an afterthought."

"Not an afterthought. Just…the _final_ thought. The only thought that _really_ matters."

“Really?” Niall asks, sounding defeated. He shakes his head, looking down at the ground to avoid Harry’s gaze. “Because every other thought you had matters to me too, Harry.”

“Niall-“

 "I don't...I don't know what you want me to say, Harry."

The younger, slightly taller boy stands. He swallows hard around the lump that has just formed in his throat as he moves around the coffee table. "It's not about what I want, Niall. It's about what you deserve."

"And what do I deserve?"

"You deserve everything you could ever want,” Harry tell him softly, truthfully. His heart clenches in his chest for the way Niall’s eyelids flutter like he’s flinching before his eyes close. He wants to stand closer, wants to wrap Niall up in his arms and pour every ounce of love in his heart into him, wants to hold Niall and never let go. But he doesn’t. “You deserve to know that I never cheated on you, that I never even thought about it...that the very best decision I ever made was _you_. Probably most of all, you deserve better than _me_."

In the wake of Niall's silence, Harry moves to leave. He walks around Niall, past him and back towards the door. His heart aches. His stomach twists and turns.

 His hand is on the doorknob when Niall calls out for him, his voice a bit tired and broken. "Haz."

Harry can’t bring himself to turn around – because if he turns around he won’t be able to leave. Instead, he rests his forehead against one panel of the door. "Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Harry nods, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns to leave because he doesn’t trust his voice.  
  
X  
  
Between work and school, Harry doesn't see Niall all week – and when he does, it's at the pub the following weekend with all the lads in tow. It’s hard, knowing Niall’s here, a 10 or 15 minute drive from Louis’ (and his, though it still doesn’t feel like his) flat, and not being able to see him. At least, not without some kind of an excuse, and things like “I just wanted to see you”, or “can I borrow some sugar”, just aren’t practical.

They're all squished into a single booth, Harry and Niall sitting across from one another. Niall has been relatively quiet, Harry notices, which is unusual in and of itself let alone after Niall's got a few beers in him. It's odd, and a bit unsettling and Harry's about ask him about it when they're alone, the lads having gone to piss and get refills, when he hears his name being called.

"Harold!" 

He recognizes the voice as Nick immediately. The way Niall stiffens doesn't go unnoticed. 

Harry turns to look over his shoulder as Nick gets closer, shifts uncomfortably when the bloke stands right beside him.  "N-Nick, hi – um-"

Nick grins, showing off his pearly white teeth, as he claps Harry on the back. "And the leprechaun,” he says, looking over at Niall. “Hello."

Niall nods curtly. "Grimmy."

"You guys alright? It's good to see you've worked things out."

Harry chokes on his own spit. "We, uh, haven't – I mean, we're just friends."

Nick raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Right. Anyway, Niall, I hope there are no hard feelings, mate. I-"

"Nicholas, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry asks quickly, so that Nick can’t go on any further. He looks apologetically at Niall as he pushes himself to his feet and then drags Nick just out of earshot. He can see Niall over Nick’s shoulder, staring down at his phone like he’s trying not to look at them. "What are you doing here?" he demands, letting his gaze land back on Nick.

"Relax, Harold, I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

Nick shrugs. "I missed home. I missed my mum, believe it or not. I hated being alone and miserable. And I figured since nothing's happened to _you_ it was probably safe to come home."

"Yeah, thanks for that by the way; for leaving me behind."

Nick shrugs. "I told you you could've still come with me. 's not my fault you went and fell in love and wanted to be a noble human being or whatever."

Harry rolls his eyes. "It's called taking responsibility for your actions."

"That's what I said – _whatever_. Besides, you didn't even have to take any responsibility because that boyfriend of yours was never going to do that to you."

"He's not my boyfriend anymore,” Harry sighs. His gaze flickers, again, over Nick’s shoulder to where a bloke, with shoulder length brown hair, and a beard/moustache has seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “We're just friends."

Nick snorts. "Yeah, right, and I'm a female."

"That's debatable."

Nick reaches out to push at Harry’s shoulder. "You know what isn't debatable? The fact that you and Irish have _never_ been just friends. And you never will be."

"Well we're trying – and I think it's going pretty well. Besides, it's all he's willing to give me right now and I can't exactly blame him for that."

" _'It's going pretty well'_ – he says wistfully,” Nick snickers, with a roll of his eyes.

"I wouldn't expect _you_ to understand, Mr. Bachelor-for-life."

"Oi – that's by choice, thank you very much,” Nick replies defensively, his voice just a bit higher than usual. “Go back to your boyfriend."

There is a long-haired bloke is sitting beside Niall when Harry returns to the booth, a tall pitcher of beer and two glasses sitting between them. He takes a quick look around, frowns when he finds that Louis, Liam, and Zayn are (still) nowhere to be found. "Hey, sorry that took so long,” he says, slipping back into the booth to sit across from Niall. “He likes to talk shit, that one."

"Harry, this is Julian,” Niall says pointedly ignoring Harry’s statement about Nick. “He's in one of my classes."

"Hey, mate," Harry says politely, while sticking his hand out for a handshake. 

Julian reaches across the table to shake his hand firmly. "Nice to meet you," he nods, also holding Harry’s gaze.

"So Nick's back in town, is he?" Niall asks casually, but Harry hears the bitter clip in his tone.

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You didn't know? Thought he would've called you to pick him up from the airport or something."

Harry stares at Niall. Niall stares at Harry. They’re both quiet, but where Niall looks a bit like he’s challenging Harry, daring him to respond, Harry is just contemplating _how_. How can he defuse a fight breaks out? Before Harry can respond, however, Louis returns with Zayn and Liam in tow. He tries his best, then, to ignore the sting of jealousy his heart feels when Louis shouts a friendly (read: familiar) "hello" at Julian before sliding into the booth next to him. He tries (and fails) to ignore the fact that all four of them carry on an easy conversation with Julian, whilst Harry just sort of listens in because he doesn’t even know where to start.

 It makes him wonder how long Niall has known Julian. And why Harry doesn’t.  
  
+  
  
"Can I make an observation?"

 Harry blinks, tears his gaze away from where it's been glued to a certain blond boy, who's been hanging all over Julian at the bar for the last 20-odd minutes. He looks beside him, gaze settling on Nick as the older bloke slides into the booth across from him. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what you're gonna say."

Nick remains silent for all 15 seconds. "He looks like you."

Harry groans, rolls his eyes pointedly. 

"Like, not his face, obviously, because you're _much_ prettier than he is, love – but, like, in terms of long, messy hair, and broad shoulders-"

"I get it, thanks,” Harry snaps shortly.

"Irish is definitely getting lucky tonight."

Harry narrows his gaze at the man before him, folds his arms over the table in front of him. "You're an asshole."

Nick smirks. "I am. And I also have a proposition for you."

"I'm not going home with you. Besides, you've already got yourself company, haven't you?" He cocks his head to side, towards the general area in which Nick had been not long ago, ‘teaching’ a younger looking raven-haired lad how to play billiards.

Nick shrugs. "I'm always up for a threesome. And I know for a fact you're not opposed to them."

Harry snorts. "I'm still not going home with you."

"Tell me it's because you've got plans to go home with someone else, and not because you're trying to do right by a bloke who is so, obviously, going home with someone else."

Harry remains silent, refuses to acknowledge the way his chest hurts.

"When the fuck did you become so noble?" Nick groans rather dramatically. "Actually, don't answer that. You just really are a _fool_ in love."

"We've been making progress lately. I don't want to ruin it."

"You call him taking your doppelgänger home _progress_?"

Harry shrugs. "He looks like me. That's gotta mean something, right?"

Nick scoffs as he rolls his eyes. "You're such a pansy. And he's clearly trying to make you jealous. Is it working?"

"Doesn't matter, does it?" As if on cue, Harry watches as Niall leans in close to Julian, one hand grasping at Julian's shoulder while the other rests on the small of Julian's back. He watches Julian throw his head back and laugh as Niall pulls away before he, himself, dips his lips to Niall's ear. He clears his throat. Hates the way his stomach flips over. "Think I'm gonna head out,” he mutters, as he slips out of the booth. He grabs his jacket off of a hook on the coat hanger standing next to the booth, although he doesn’t put it on.

"Why do you think I propositioned you?" Nick scoffs, but climbs out of the booth nonetheless. 

"I know,” Harry mutters. “I'll see you 'round, yeah?" He makes his way through a crowd of people towards Niall, and then places a tentative hand on the blond’s shoulder to get his attention. "I'm heading out," he whisper-yells, over the music, in Niall's ear. "Tell the lads for me?"

"You're _leaving_?” Niall asks incredulously. He whips his head around to glance back at the clock hanging above the front door. “It's hardly midnight."

Harry shrugs. "Was up early for class this morning, gotta get up early for work tomorrow." It’s just an excuse, but he also isn’t lying either.

Niall frowns, but nods all the same. 

"Besides, you look like you're in good hands," the brunette says, nodding his head at Julian.

"He's in _great_ hands," Julian slurs, swinging an arm around Niall's shoulders. 

Niall nods. “Yeah.”

"Right," Harry mutters. "Have a good night, and I'll see you...next weekend, I guess."

 “Yeah,” Niall mutters again – but it’s drowned out by the music, and the chatter, and the fact that Harry is already halfway towards the door.  
  
X  
  
Harry's studying when Louis gets home a few days later – which is, he realizes rather suddenly, about how long it's been since he's seen Louis. He hasn’t been avoiding him, not in the way he’s been avoiding Niall (and maybe Liam and Zayn), it’s just, well, end-of-term exams are coming up, and Harry can’t afford to fail, and studying at the library is quieter.

"There he is!" Louis shouts, tossing his bag on the floor next to the door.

Harry snorts, rolls his eyes. "There _you_ are, more like. Have fun?"

"Loads, mate. You should've joined us."

Harry shrugs. Louis had texted him a few hours ago, said he and Liam we're going to hang out with Niall, Julian, and a couple other blokes Harry’s never heard mentioned before. Harry had been tempted for all of about 30 seconds before deciding there was no way he could watch Niall be all over Julian for a second time. "I have a quiz tomorrow. It’s to prepare us for the exam."

"You're such a good little student," Louis snickers, ruffling Harry's hair before falling back onto the cushion beside him. "Of course it has absolutely nothing to do with Julian being there."

Harry pretends he doesn’t hear him.

"They're just friends, you know,” Louis says, nudging his toes against Harry’s thigh. “And not, like, in the pathetic way you and Niall are ‘just friends’. They're literally just friends."

"Not what it looked like the other night," Harry murmurs.

"Well, whatever it looked like, Niall went home alone. And Julian went home with some girl. Which you would’ve known had you stuck around, y’know."

 A sense of relief washes over Harry – and he’s a little bit ashamed of how triumphant it makes him feel, to know that Niall didn’t go home anyone else after all.

"You and Niall just really need to get your shit together,” Louis says a moment later. “It's exhausting, dealing with the two of you."

 Harry sighs, lets his head fall back against the back of the couch as he turns to look at his friend. "Tell me about it."  
  
X  
  
The next time they go out – or in other words, the next time Harry sees Niall – it’s for Louis' birthday. Granted, it's the weekend before his actual birthday, seeing as his actual birthday is the day before Christmas and everyone will be going home for Christmas. But it's a celebration all the same. At first, Louis wants to throw a party, invite everyone he can find and get blackout drunk because, well, it's his "birthday and I can do what I want." Eleanor, however, manages to talk him down to just going out to a club with the boys and the girls – this way, it still feels like a party but with less responsibility.

Two hours after arriving, Harry's all but lost track of everyone. They're all around somewhere – Louis and Eleanor are more than likely hooking up in the bathroom by now, Liam and Sophia are probably grinding up on the small dance floor, Zayn and Perrie have undoubtedly stepped out for a smoke, and Niall – well, Niall had disappeared to get more drinks about 10 minutes ago.

 Things have been alright, thus far, regarding Niall. In other words, they’ve been getting on quite well, despite the fact that they haven’t seen each other apart from running into each other briefly between exams on campus the other day. Niall has been relatively nice to Harry all night, opted to sit next to him rather than across from him so that all the couples could sit together – he’s even been laughing at Harry’s stupid jokes. All in all, it’s been a fairly good, comfortable night. And this time it really does feel like they’re making progress, as far as being _friends_ goes.

"Hey!"

Harry turns to face the voice, and his gaze lands on a girl standing next to him with long, dark hair and a really pretty face. "Hey,” he yells back loudly enough so she can hear him over the bass, in whatever club song is playing now.

Her smile lights up her face, as she leans up to speak closer to his ear. "I'm Kendall."

"Harry."

"D'you wanna dance?" she asks casually, tilting her head in the general direction of the dancefloor.

He hesitates. "I'm, um, waiting for someone."

"The blond guy, right? With really pretty blue eyes."

Harry nods, though his eyebrows come together in confusion.

She laughs. "He spilled a drink on my friend Barbara, they've been giggling about it for, like, at least five minutes."

Harry frowns, lets his gaze flit over Kendall’s shoulder – and, sure enough, there’s Niall standing at the bar with a tall, beautiful looking girl. She has long, beautiful brown hair, a gorgeous face, and legs that go on for days. His stomach twists when she laughs at something Niall says.

"Is he your boyfriend or something?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Harry replies.

Kendall frowns too. "So in other words, it's complicated."

"Precisely."

"Well, I mean, you can still dance, right?” she asks with a shrug of her shoulders. “A little dance never hurt nobody."

Harry smirks. "You've never seen me dance."

"C'mon, it'll be fun!” she yells, grabbing hold of his hand. “You look like you can use a little bit of fun."

And, ok, she's got him there. Which is how he finds himself letting her lead the way to the dancefloor.

 And if he catches Niall's gaze over Kendall's shoulder a little while later, while sweat beads roll down the side of his face and Kendall grinds on him with her eyes closed – Niall, who frowns (maybe even pouts) – then, well, so be it.  
  
+  
  
By the time Harry returns, with Kendall in tow, back to the corner of club in which they'd all started, everyone is there once again – Louis looks to be half asleep, arms wrapped tight around Eleanor's mid-section, head resting heavily on her shoulders; Sophia's whispering something in Liam's ear; Zayn and Perrie are in the middle of a full-on snog; and Niall – well, Niall looks bored out of his mind and maybe even a little bit grumpy, fingers running absentmindedly along the rim of his empty glass.

Harry's forehead is a bit sweaty, and he's panting a bit from throwing shapes all over the dance floor, and Kendall can't stop giggling into one hand, whilst clutching Harry’s forearm in the other. "Hey, hii," Harry breathes when he reaches the table. "Hello!"

"I'm gonna go find Barbara," Kendall says, patting her hand on Harry's shoulder before spinning around and disappearing back into the crowd.

"I gotta piss, anyone wanna come?" Harry asks, throwing his thumb behind him in the direction of the toilets.

"Piss off, Harold," Louis grumbles, though his eyes remain closed. "Lads don't need to piss together, and nobody wants to see your dick. Well, actually-"

"I could take a piss," Niall says, pushing himself to his feet.

Harry follows him, then, through throngs of dancing bodies until they reach the dimly-lit hallway that leads to where the bathrooms are. They round the corner, and it's immediately cooler, calmer and relatively quieter, a welcoming sound to his eardrums, rather than the continuously loud, pulsing beat of club music-

And then his back hits the wall next to him with a thud and hands are tugging at the front of his shirt and lips – _Niall's_ lips – are pressing against his, and his teeth are nibbling at his bottom lip. Fireworks burst behind his eyelids, and it feels like electricity shoots up and down his spine. Every nerve ending is on fire, and his heart is beating so strongly in his chest he thinks it might be making an imprint in his shirt. It’s cliché, but it’s _magical_.

Harry's breathless when Niall pulls away but he finds himself chasing Niall's lips anyway, hungry for more.

Niall pants, lifts a finger and presses it to Harry's lips as he leans forward and rests his forehead on Harry's, eyes closed. "Don't...” he breathes, lips brushings against his finger. “Please don't go home with anyone else tonight. Please, Harry."

Harry looks at the man before him with lidded eyes, takes in Niall’s rosy cheeks and bloodshot ears. "I won't if you won't," he pants.

Niall opens his eyes and his gaze shifts back and forth between both of Harry's. "Deal."

Harry knows his guard is down now and he takes advantage, surges forward to capture Niall's lips in his. He pulls at Niall's shirt and then spins him around and presses him against the wall, slips a knee between Niall's thighs and pushes a hand through Niall’s hair.

"It's um...It's not working, is it?” Niall murmurs into Harry’s mouth. “We can't just be friends, can we?"

"No...I guess not."

The blond pulls back all the way, then, one hand placed gently on Harry’s chest, right over his heart, as the other plays with one of Harry’s curls. "My place or yours?"

Harry hums. "Yours."

Niall grins. He grabs Harry's hand, and Harry finds that his need for the loo no longer exists as Niall leads him back out towards the table. "Lads, we're um, we're gonna-"

"Leave,” the brunette finishes for him. “We’re calling it a night."

"Have makeup sex," Louis snickers. Eleanor hits him, but Liam and Zayn, and even Sophia burst out laughing. 

Niall rolls his eyes, reaches forward to grab Louis' head between his hands and presses a smacking kiss to his cheek. "Happy Birthday, Tommo."

And then Harry’s being hauled away quickly – by the only person he’d ever follow anywhere.  
  
+  
  
Harry’s back slams against the front door. Niall pins him there, lips pressed firmly together, tongues intertwined. He has one hand caught in Harry’s messy, unruly curls whilst he fumbles with his key in the other. His hand is shaking so much, due to the pure adrenaline pulsing through his veins that he has to pull his other hand out of Harry’s hair in order to slip the key into the lock.

Harry hums, nips at Niall’s bottom lip with his teeth as the blond pulls away, and trains his gaze on the lock. He settles for Niall’s neck, then; attaches his lips to Niall’s pale skin, nips and sucks at it gently, whilst he tugs at the bottom of Niall’s plain, black t-shirt with his fingers.

The door opens a second later, and he stumbles backwards. The only thing that prevents him from falling over is Niall’s hands gripping his hips – fingertips digging into Harry’s love handles. (He’s always hated his love handles, tried everything he could to get rid of them, and Niall, well, he has always quite liked them.)

They stumble further into the flat, whilst kicking off shoes and shrugging off jackets as they make their way down the corridor. It’s a bit difficult – keeping their balance, and not separating their lips, and they bounce from wall to wall a few times, but they manage it with only minimal damage.

Harry trips through the doorway to Niall’s bedroom, and the blond boy giggles a, “Watch your step, _Bambi_.” Niall’s hands are in the middle of fumbling with Harry’s belt when Harry pushes him up against the long dresser next to the door. He slips a knee between Niall’s legs, swats Niall’s hands away from the button on his jeans before pulling Niall’s shirt up and over his head. Harry could trace every outline of Niall’s body down on paper with his eyes closed, and from memory. Niall’s shoulders are just as broad, his arms are just as defined, the hair on his chest is just as dark and thick, and his little six-pack just creates an indent in Niall’s torso.

Niall moans low in his throat, surges forward to lick into Harry’s mouth, and grinds his erection hard against Harry’s thigh. He tries to grab at Harry’s jumper, then, but Harry’s falling away from him.

Harry sinks to his knees in front of him, makes quick work of Niall’s belt. He presses a kiss to the thin trail of dark hair below Niall’s belly button and just above the top of his jeans, which elicits a gasp from Niall’s mouth. His lips smirk against Niall’s skin before he sits back on his heels, and his hands shake slightly as he pops the button on the blonde’s jeans. Niall helps him shimmy them, along with his briefs, down his hips until his cock, thick and hard springs up. Harry’s mouth waters as he watches it bob and twitch in front his face; he could drool, that’s how beautiful it is.

He curls his left hand around the back of Niall’s knee, digs his fingers into the nerves there, right above where the band to his pants have settled against his calves – and then he wraps his right hand Niall’s dick. Niall hisses at his touch, and Harry can’t help but look up at him; he looks gorgeous, all flushed cheeks with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his hair all spikey and teased from Harry having run his fingers through his it several times. Niall continues to watch him, watches his mouth drop open in a silent gasp when he swipes his thumb over the head to collect several beads of precum. He uses it to wet the rest of Niall’s cock as he moves his hand up and down the shaft.

And then he leans forward. He closes his eyes and fits his lips around the tip, listens (and commits to memory, along with the hundredth of others) to the way Niall hisses and moans. He licks along the veins and sucks at the head the way he knows Niall likes, wraps the hand around his shaft around the back of Niall’s other knee, relaxes his throat, and brings Niall in deep. He opens his eyes when his nose grazes Niall’s little v-line to gage his reaction – and it’s then that Niall tosses his head back, grips the edge of the dresser with one hand and pushes the other through Harry’s hair.

“F-fuck,” Niall moans – and then he hisses when Harry starts to bob his head. Niall once told him he gives the best head _ever_.

And while Harry’s really good at giving head, he also really enjoys it. So much so, that he _has_ to pop open the button on own jeans and push them down until he can get a hand around his own hard, weeping erection. Between Niall’s reaction, the friction he’s giving himself, and the weight of Niall on his tongue and down his throat, it’s become impossible for Harry to hold back a moan.

Niall echoes him, groans low in his throat as his hips twitch. “Harry – Haz-“ he cuts himself off, chokes on his own tongue when Harry pops off.

Harry knows what Niall sounds like when he’s close, and he recognizes the desperation in Niall’s voice, which is why he stops; it’s also why he stops tugging at his own cock, and pushes himself to his feet. Niall grabs at his shoulder, drags him in by the neck of his jumper until their lips crash back together.

And then they’re stumbling again, across the room and towards the bed, and clothes are falling away from them, hitting the floor with soft thuds.

Harry hits the bed first, crawls up backwards until the back of his head is resting against the headboard. He watches, with bated breath and a rapidly beating heart, as Niall crawls over top of him. And he watches as Niall straddles his hips, breathes a “fuck” when Niall grinds down on him.

“Hi,” Niall whispers, lips brushing against Harry’s mouth as he presses their foreheads together.

Harry smirks as he rolls them over, settling between Niall’s thighs. “Hi,” he whispers back. He kisses down Niall’s jaw, leaves a trail over his collarbones and then down his sternum. He nips at Niall’s hip once, twice – and then licks over the spot to soothe it. Then he kisses down one line of Niall’s v-line and up the other, purposely avoiding Niall’s dick, where it’s lying hard, and leaking against his stomach. “You have stuff, yeah?”

Niall’s hand flails out, reaches blindly for the handle of his bedside table, eyes screwed shut as Harry trails kisses back up his torso. His back arches, pressing the length of his naked body against Harry’s.

Harry plucks the little bottle of lube out of Niall’s hand, but leaves him with the condom. For now. He sits back, whilst Niall shifts his hips and spreads his legs, and drizzles a copious amount onto his fingers before he presses them to Niall’s hole-

“W-wait – hang on, hang on,” Niall breathes.

Harry freezes, shoulders tense. He looks up at Niall’s face, takes in the nervous look in Niall’s eyes. “Do – do you want to stop?”

Niall shakes his head. “No, I just-“

“We can stop, Niall. We don’t-“

“I don’t want to stop,” Niall insists, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He holds Harry’s gaze. “I just – need a minute.”

“Y-yeah, of course.”

“It’s just, it’s been a while,” Niall murmurs. “For me _and_ for us. I just need a minute.”

“Ni-“

“Just do that thing you used to do.”

Harry blinks. “Yeah – yeah, turn over.”

Niall does what he’s told, and maneuvers himself onto his stomach. He hugs a pillow underneath his head. And Harry does what he used to do, whenever Niall’s body was too tense with stress and his mind was too foggy with thoughts. He presses a kiss to the back of Niall’s neck, and then trails his lips all over Niall’s back – across his shoulders, down between his shoulder blades until he reaches the small of his back. It seems to work like a charm, because it’s only a few minutes until Niall moans and pushes himself up onto his elbows and pulls his knees up to lift his arse.

Harry takes it as a sign and reaches for the lube. He pushes the first finger in slowly and carefully. Niall hisses, drops head and buries his face into the pillow, and Harry bites a gentle smirk into Niall’s flesh. He takes his time, pulls his finger out and pushes it back in, rubs his other hand in soothing circles over the small of Niall’s back.

He adds a second finger. And then a third, when Niall’s ready for it.

Harry feels a bit overwhelmed by it all – by how tight Niall is, and how hot this is, how hot it always is, and how it feels like nothing’s changed. Not Niall. Not himself. Not even _them_. It doesn’t feel like it’s been about 13 months since they’ve done this, and yet it does. It feels old, and yet it feels very, very new.

“’m ready,” Niall slurs breathlessly. “Please, Haz, I need your cock. I-“

Harry pulls his fingers out and, despite begging for more, for something else, Niall’s whines at the loss. He helps Niall roll back over onto his back, settles himself back between Niall’s thighs. Niall finds the condom and rips the packet open with shaky fingers before he reaches for Harry’s dick, the head of it bright pink and leaking over Niall’s stomach alongside his own. Harry gasps, falls forward with a hand braced on either side of Niall’s shoulder as Niall rolls the condom over him.

Harry enters him slowly. He presses the head in, watches Niall’s hole swallow it eagerly. Despite the preparation, and the fact that Harry opened him up perfectly, though, Niall still winces, breathes in sharply and digs his fingers into each of Harry’s biceps. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. He presses Niall into the bed, slips his arms under Niall’s shoulders and captures Niall’s lips in a kiss to distract him from the burn.

Niall moans into his mouth, wraps his arms tight around his neck and lifts his hips to give Harry better access. It still burns as Harry continues to push in slowly, but it’s a gentle, subtle sort of burn – the kind that’s tolerable only because it’s also sort of pleasurable.

A groan escapes Harry’s lips when he bottoms out. He doesn’t move, except to pull his head back and then mouth at Niall’s jaw. Niall, who’s panting and struggling to breathe through his mouth, and gripping Harry’s shoulders like a vice. It only takes a minute, or so, for Niall to adjust, and only then does Harry move. He pulls out, until just the tip of his cock is still inside, and waits until Niall whines and lifts his hips desperately, before he pushes back in.

“No teasing,” Niall murmurs, pushing a hand through Harry’s hair.

Harry smirks as he pulls back out, and then snaps back in. The sound of flesh-on-flesh, along with Niall’s gasp, echoes around the room. “That better?” he teases.

“Little.”

Harry does it again, only this time he thrusts harder, and somehow deeper – and he grazes Niall’s prostate at the same time.

Niall cries out loudly, arches his back off the mattress, digs the back of his head into the pillow and wraps both legs around Harry’s hips – and that’s exactly the reaction Harry was looking for. He reaches his free hand down to grip Harry’s arse. “Perfect,” Niall breathes once he’s able to breathe again.

Harry continues to thrust in and out, alternating between slow-and-steady (which is what Niall would call torturous, no matter how much he loves it) and fast-and-hard, even a bit sloppy, just to drive Niall crazy. And Niall _is_ crazy with it, moaning and groaning and just shy of screaming for _Harry_ , and _faster_ , and _more_ , and _don’t stop_. Harry thinks if it wouldn’t probably, eventually kill them both, he’d _never_ stop.

It’s when Niall starts to clench that Harry knows he’s close, and a glance down at his untouched cock proves him right. He thinks about taking Niall in his hand and pulling him off quickly – but then he remembers what Niall looks like and what he sounds like when he comes untouched, when Harry drags it out of him with nothing but his dick. Niall lets go of Harry’s arse and he’s about to reach for himself, to tug himself off, but he must have the same thought Harry did – or at the very least thought about how it feels – and he stops. He wraps his hand around the back of Harry’s neck instead.

Harry kisses him, licks into his mouth and nips at his bottom lip before he pulls back and pressed their foreheads together. “You wanna come untouched?” His voice is rough, thick with lust and his own need to come as it coils in his stomach. Niall nods, eyes closed. “You gonna come from just my cock?

“Yeah,” Niall pants. His mouth hangs open in another silent gasp as Harry snaps his hips forward. “Just your cock.”

“Yeah? You think you can?”

“Mhmm.”

Harry pulls his arms out from underneath Niall’s shoulders and takes both of his hands, intertwines their fingers like pieces of a puzzle, and then pins them high above Niall’s head. He holds him down. Niall loves it. He loves being held down while Harry drags his orgasm out of him.

Niall’s orgasm hits him hard and completely out of nowhere. It rips a growl and a moan, in the form of “Harry”, out of his throat, as his grip on Harry’s hands tighten. He shakes with it as he comes in spurts, streaking white up and down both of their chests – he even, might, get a little bit on his chin, which Harry licks off before pressing a kiss to Niall’s lips so Niall can taste himself.

Harry continues to thrust once, twice, three more times before his own orgasm rips its way through his body. He buries himself balls deep as he cries out, against Niall’s lips. Niall coaxes him through it, gets his hands free and wraps both arms around Harry’s neck. There’s an _“I love you”_ sitting right on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let loose, but he manages to bite it back by focusing, hard, on the electric sensations racing throughout his whole body.

Niall’s the first to fall asleep, his chest spooned against Harry’s back, face buried in the back of his neck, arm thrown around his torso, fingers interlocked and legs intertwined.

  
X  
  
Harry wakes up alone.

The bed is cold, where Niall had fallen asleep with him, and when Harry pushes himself up to peer around the room, elbows digging into the mattress, it's not hard to notice that Niall's clothes are gone. His breath catches in his throat and his heart sinks. The thought of Niall leaving him, much less leaving him naked and alone after the night they had, makes him feel sick. He gets up to leave quickly; he doesn't feel right lying in the silence that is Niall's bedroom when Niall couldn't even bare to stay with him, in his own bed.

It's when he's pushing his feet into his boots by the front door, jacket slung haphazardly over his arm, that he comes face-to-face with Niall – as Niall comes through the front door. There’s a cardboard tray with two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other, his keys dangling from the same hand. His mouth runs dry when their gazes collide.

Niall looks him over, takes him in. His eyebrows come together in confusion.  "Going somewhere?"

Harry blinks. "I – you left, and I-" he cuts himself off and drops his gaze sheepishly because, well, clearly he was wrong. Niall doesn’t hate him – at least, not entirely.

"I was too lazy to make breakfast, so I went out across the street to get it,” Niall says, holding up both hands as he kicks the front door shut. “Got you a tea."

"Black?"

"I still don't know _how_ you drink it black,” Niall scoffs.

Harry smirks as he takes the tray out of Niall’s hand so the blond can shrug himself out of his jacket.

"You – you don't have to stay, if you don't want to-"

"No, it's – it's not like I need to be anywhere,” Harry replies, letting Niall take back the tray so he can hang his own jacket back up in the closet. He distinctly remembers letting it fall to the floor last night, which means Niall had picked it up – and placed Harry’s boots together neatly – on his way out the door. “Not like I _want_ to be anywhere else. I just,” he pauses, reaches a hand behind his head to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly, “I woke up alone, so I thought you regretted it, maybe, and that you left so I'd get the hint. I was gonna text you when I was gone."

"I don't,” Niall murmurs. “I don't regret it."

 A smile tugs at Harry's lips, and he finds himself fighting a blush that threatens to light up his whole face.

"That being said, I think we need to talk."

Harry nods. "Do you mind if I just use the loo first though? I was in a rush to leave, so I didn’t-"

Niall shakes his head. "I'll heat up your biscuit."

Harry disappears into the bathroom, takes a quick piss, and then splashes water over his face before drying his skin with the hand towel next to the sink. He’s nervous now, though of what, he isn’t quite sure. The thing is, they need to have this conversation. It’s unavoidable – especially if they hope to have any sort of chance.

His phone vibrates once in his back pocket, so he pulls it out to look at the message.

It's from Louis. 

_‘Am I to assume it's a good thing that you're not home yet?!’_

Harry smirks, and rolls eyes. ‘ _Assuming things makes an ass out of U and ME.’_

 _‘Am I to MAKE AN EDUCATED GUESS that it's a good thing you're not home yet’_ – the lack of punctuation means Louis’ already getting impatient.

_Maybe._

 

Harry enters the living room to find Niall setting a plate with Harry's biscuit on it on the coffee table next to where Harry’s tea is sitting atop a coaster. Niall smiles softly when he sees him, motions for Harry to sit on the couch beside where he sits down too. Harry smiles back as he crosses the room; he makes a note of the jumper Niall’s wearing, because it used to belong to Harry.

 "Where’s Zayn?” he asks as he sits down. He rips off a chuck of the biscuit and dips it into his tea before he pops the piece into his mouth. “Did he not come home?"

A blush spreads a across Niall’s cheek as he reaches for his coffee, hides his smile behind the rim of the cup. "I may have asked him very nicely to stay with Pez last night. Not that it took much; I think that was his plan anyway."

Harry smirks. 

"He did tell me to tell him once the coast is clear though."

"Louis just texted me. How much do you want to bet the two of them are texting each other about us?"

Niall snorts. "I know. They like to gossip more than most girls do."

Harry hums, because Niall isn’t wrong. It had never taken very long for news to travel between the five of them.

"You believe me, right?” Niall asks suddenly. He leans sideways against the back of the couch, his right arm propped up on the cushion as he holds his cup on his lap with the other hand. “That I don't regret it, what happened last night?"

"I want to. And I do, yeah – I believe you," Harry says softly.

"Good. You should."

A smile tugs at Harry’s lips. "I do."

"I just need to set a few things straight – or, rather, I need for you to set a few things straight. I need you to be honest with me."

Harry nods, waits with baited breath for Niall to continue.

Niall pushes a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s anxious. He plays nervously with his blond tips , glances down quickly at his cup and then takes a deep breath as he looks back up. His gaze settles on Harry’s. "I need to know you're done with it, with everything. If we're gonna have any kind of shot, I need to know that you can leave that stuff behind-"

"I can,” Harry says quickly, cutting him off. A burst of courage pushes him forward and he slides his hand over Niall’s left knee, where his leg is dangling over the edge of the couch. There’s a rip in his jeans, and Harry finds himself playing with the loose threads that have frayed away from it. “I _have_. I haven't stolen anything, or even spoken to anyone I knew from that life, since – well, since before you found the diamond, if I'm honest."

"What about Nick?” Niall asks. His voice is soft, sounds a bit uncertain, like he’s afraid of how Harry’s going to respond. “I know he's one of your oldest friends, Harry, but I just need to know that he isn't going to be a problem."

Harry sighs, runs his thumb over the scar on Niall’s kneecap. It makes Niall shiver; it always makes Niall shiver. The scar is three years old now, there because of a surgery Niall had had to fix an injury he’d gotten when he was a kid that had never quite healed, but it’s still sensitive. "I think no matter what, he's going to be a problem. You could barely even stomach the sight of him the other day."

Niall blinks. "I – Harry-"

"It doesn't matter. I haven't spoken to him since he showed up at the pub, and before that, apart from a post card here and there, I hadn't heard from him since he took off. He's not a part of my life anymore."

"Do you want him to be? It's ok if you do, I just need to know."

Harry shrugs. He glances down at where Niall’s fingers are playing absentmindedly with the lip of his coffee cup. When he looks back up, Niall’s still staring at him. "He's always been trouble for me; always been unhealthy, from the day I met him. It’s why Louis never liked him much either. He represents certain things I no longer wish to be a part of – a lifestyle I don't want to live anymore, and if the only way to get away from it is to leave him behind, then I don't have any other choice, do I?"

"You do,” Niall whispers softly. “You do have another choice."

Harry arches an eyebrow. "You don't get it, do you? I made my decision about this a long time ago. And I chose you."

Niall smiles weakly. He makes sure his cup is balanced perfectly in his lap before he lets it go and reaches, instead, for Harry’s hand. He interlocks their fingers, and runs his own thumb up and down Harry’s thumb.

"I want a normal life,” Harry presses softly. “I want a noble life. And I want those things with _you_ , Niall."

The blond smirks, rolls his eyes fondly. "You always were somewhat of a smooth talker."

Harry screws up his face, and pretends to be offended. "Just _somewhat_?"

Niall shrugs. "Worked the first time, didn't it?"

"Is it working _now_?"

"It might be."

Harry moves closer, takes the cup off of where it’s balanced on Niall’s thigh and places it on the coffee table. Niall lets him – and he lets Harry get closer, lets Harry cup his face. It’s only when Harry goes to kiss him, that Niall turns his face away and closes his eyes, despite the fact that both of Niall’s hands have come up to grasp Harry’s biceps as though to anchor him in place. To keep him from leaving; to prevent him from letting go.

The brunette breathes hard through his nose as he rests his forehead against Niall’s temple. "Ni, what do I have to do?"

"Be honest with me," Niall murmurs.

"I have been."

Niall pulls back, then, but only far enough away to look at Harry properly. "Are you clean?"

Harry nods. "I have the paperwork to prove it."

"Do you love me?"

Harry frowns. "What kind of question is that?"

"Say it,” Niall pleads. “Tell me-"

"I love you."

Niall closes his eyes whilst a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "Prove it,” he whispers.

Harry takes it upon himself to stand up and to pull Niall to his feet, before taking the lead back to Niall’s bedroom, their fingers intertwined and their morning pick-me-ups left forgotten on the coffee table.  
  
X

X  
  
"Harry Edward Styles!"

His head snaps up at the sound of his mother's voice calling out to him from the kitchen. She’s glaring at him through the hole in the wall between the kitchen/dining room and the living room. "Sorry,” he murmurs sheepishly.

"Could you help me in the kitchen, please?"

"Yeah, 'course." He pushes himself to his feet, and ignores the fact that both his mum and his sister – Gemma, who's sat on the couch across from him watching _A Christmas Carol_ – are staring at him as he finishes the text message he'd been typing to Niall. ‘ _Is it too early in the holidays to say I miss you?’_

He's been in Holmes Chapel for a total of three days now, and he's already going mad at the fact that the only form of communication he has with Niall, who's flown back to Ireland with his parents to be with the rest of his family for Christmas, is over the phone. It's a bit anticlimactic, given the fact that that they'd only just begun to give it another chance a mere 36 hours before Niall got on a plane. In hindsight, perhaps they should have waited until after the holidays to start their relationship back up again.

Anne's giving him that look she gets whenever she's curious – that contemplative smile, those raised eyebrows, the all-knowing motherly look in her eyes, when Harry joins her in the kitchen. "So?" she prompts.

"What?" Harry murmurs, albeit a bit bashfully.

"Who's got you so smitten? Is it _Niall_ again?"

Harry wants to ask what she means by ‘again’, but one glance back at Gemma – who’s now pointedly ignoring his gaze by staring at the TV (and hiding a smile) – tells him that, as usual, nothing is sacred in this family. Telling Gemma that Niall was finally going to give it another go with him was his first mistake; expecting her to not relay the message to their mother was his second. "It might be."

"Oh, honey!” Anne squeals excitedly. “Really?"

"Don't – it's not that big of a deal," Harry lies. It actually is quite the big deal. "We're giving it another shot, that's all."

" _That's all_ ," Anne scoffs. "You're mad about this boy and you're telling me 'that's all. I wasn't born yesterday, you know."

Harry blushes, rolls his eyes. "We're starting over. At least, we're trying to."

"And?"

"And it's good so far. Really good."

"Alright, I get it,” she scoffs. “You're too old to be talking to your mum about your boy. Fine." She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and presses a kiss into his dimple at the same time his phone vibrates in his pocket. "Just know I'm happy for you." She turns away, then, to grab a few things out of the fridge.

Anne had been more than a little bit surprised when Harry had shown up, out of the blue, tears cascading down his cheeks, blubbering about how he and Niall had ‘broken up’. She hadn’t really believed it at first, had asked him if he was absolutely sure – asked him if maybe they’d just had a fight and he was overreacting. And of course, Harry couldn’t very well tell her what really happened, so he’d given her a less incriminating and incredibly vague version of breaking Niall’s heart. Her only other reaction was to go into mum-mode after that; she took care of him for the two days he had stayed with her – because, quite frankly, he had dreaded the idea of going home to an otherwise empty flat, and told him, as he was packing up his things to drive back to London and return to reality, that everything was going to be ok, the way mums do in a crisis such as his. He hadn’t believed her then, but he thinks now that maybe he should have. Mums always know best, after all.

Harry takes the opportunity during which Anne’s back is turned to pull his phone back out, and two messages light up across the screen. 

_‘i really hope not’_

_‘i miss you too’_  
  
X  
  
Niall's in his room, gaze flitting between a white button-down and a light grey jumper splayed out on his bed to go with his pair of black skinny jeans, and dark brown Chelsea boots Harry had gotten him for his birthday last year, when his phone buzzes on the bedside table. He smiles when Harry's name and face flashes across the screen before he answers it.

"Hey," he greets softly.

"Hi,” Harry chirps through the phone. “I'm downstairs."

"I'm still getting dressed, but I'll buzz you in and Zayn'll get the door."

"Or _you_ can come get the door."

Niall rolls his eyes affectionately at the mischievousness in his boyfriend’s voice. "I'm still getting dressed."

"I could help you."

"More like distract me," Niall snorts.

Harry hums. "You're very distracting."

"So are you. Now shut up, and let me buzz you in."

"See you in a bit," Harry laughs.

Niall hangs up, and then uses his phone to buzz Harry in. "Zayn!” he shouts, slipping his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “ I need you to get the door for Harry!"

"Why can't you do it?! You're the one going on a date with him." Zayn yells at him from down the hall. He pokes his head into the room, a minute later. "Oh."

"Yeah, _oh_. Please go get the door."

"Wear the jumper. It's easier to take off afterwards," Zayn says, before he carries on down the hallway just as there's a knock on the door.

Niall looks back at the jumper lying across the foot of his bed and, well, Zayn's right. A jumper is definitely easier to pull off over his head at the end of the night. Besides, a button down might imply that he's trying _too_ hard to impress Harry – not that he has to try, really.   
He hears Harry's voice a few seconds later, and he takes a moment to eavesdrop.

"Hey, mate," Harry says, his voice muffled by the fact that he’s all the way down hall and separated by three walls. 

"Hey, Harry,” Zayn replies. “Make yourself at home, lad. Niall's bein' a bit of a diva at the moment."

Niall rolls his eyes, but bites his tongue.

"How's Perrie? Did you propose yet?"

"Niall told you, did he?"

"Only because I saw the picture you sent him. He said you guys are looking at houses too. It's a beautiful ring, by the way."

"Thanks. I'm doing it next weekend – got a hotel room booked and everything."

"That's great, man. I'm happy for you."

"Makes two of us. I'm also happy for you and Niall. I'm glad you're giving it another shot."

"Me too."

Niall smiles. He stops listening to the rest of the conversation as he pulls his jumper on over his head and shoulders. He grabs his wallet off his dresser and puts it in the back pocket opposite his phone. He gives his room a once-over and makes sure he isn’t forgetting anything, before he turns out the light.

Harry's sitting in the rocking chair by the window, and Zayn’s sprawled across the couch as per usual when Niall joins them in the living room. He smiles when he sees Niall, leans forward in the chair as his whole face lights up. Niall sees the way Harry looks him up and down, fights the blush that starts to spread across his cheeks.)

"Hey."

"Hi," Harry breathes. He pushes himself to his feet, adjusts the way his blazer is sitting on his shoulders. Underneath the blazer he’s wearing a fancy black and white polka dot dress shirt – with black skinny jeans and boots. "You look, uh…" He swallows hard after he trails off.

"So do you,” Niall murmurs. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, makes a gesture to move towards the door. “You ready?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

"Can you grab the mail when you come back?" Zayn asks, tossing Niall a curious glance.

Niall scoffs. "Get it yourself, you lazy prick. _I'm_ the diva, remember?" he jokes, pushing his arms into his jacket in the front hall.

Harry laughs whilst he, too, pulls on his jacket. “I’ll make sure he grabs the mail for you, Zayn.”

“At least _someone_ is responsible.”

“More like a _suck up_ ,” Niall snorts.

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts.  
  
+  
  
Niall stares at the frozen rink in front of him, a sheet of ice surrounded by wooden boards and flooded with several dozen skaters. "You can't be serious," he mutters.

Harry smirks. "Oh, but I am."

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

Niall turns to look at him, watches as he sits down on a bench next to where they’d both been standing; watches Harry toe off one boot to replace it with a black figure skate. Niall’s ice hockey skates, which he’d gotten Zayn to sneak him the day before, apparently, are on the bench beside Harry. "Haz, you can barely walk on flat, dry ground. You take one step on that sheet of ice and you're literally going to be _Bambi_."

Harry stops in the middle of tying up his skate and pretends to look offended as he glances up at Niall. "I'm a _good_ skater."

Niall raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"I am! Call my mum, ask her. Gemma used to figure skate, and I always wanted to do whatever Gemma could do so mum got me pair of skates and I used to practice with Gem all the time. Granted, I was never very good at the _figure_ thing, but I was good at the skating bit."

"I give you 10 minutes before you fall and land on your arse," Niall says, folding his arms over his chest.

"Only 10?" Harry asks incredulously.

Niall nods. "Only 10."

"Alright,” Harry replies with a challenging smirk. “You're on. Gimme the stakes."

"If I win, you have to make me dinner for our next date."

"Deal. And if I win?"

Niall shrugs, walking around Harry’s long spider legs to sit on the other end of the box. He, too, toes off one boot as he reaches for a skate. "You get to embarrass me in front of everyone here, as dramatically as you want, for doubting you."

Harry frowns. "That's not exactly fair, but you're on."

Harry wipes out shortly after the nine minute mark. He gets cocky with it – squats down and holds the pose for all of about five seconds before one foot slips out from under him and he falls backwards. And then, as he slides across the ice, he gets dramatic with it – his long legs flying up over his head, exposing his snow-covered backside.

Niall laughs at him – openly, loudly and doubled-over – before he skates over to where Harry's lying sprawled across the surface now that he’s lost all of his momentum. He stands above Harry, smirking down at him. "I win," he says smugly.

"It appears you have," Harry grins up at him.

The blond holds out his hand to help Harry to his feet. "Except you fell on purpose."

"What?” Harry scoffs. “I did no such thing."

"You did. I know you did. Why?"

Harry shrugs, pats away the snow and ice shaving from his clothes. "I like cooking for you."

Niall stares at him fondly, head tilted to side as he brushes a few snowflakes off his collar. "Let me get this straight. You threw yourself on the ground so you could cook for me on our next date, instead of just winning, and then asking me if you could cook for me on our next date."

Harry blinks. "Well, when you put it like that-"

Niall cuts him off by pressing their lips together gently. "You're an idiot, Bambi," he murmurs into the kiss.  
  
X  
  
Harry wakes up in the middle of the night a few days later, and the bed beside him is empty. And cold. The sheets on Niall’s side of the bed are still rumpled and unmade, and this time, when he looks around the bedroom, Niall's clothes are still there. At least there's that. 

It's when he's tip-toeing down the hallway, careful to not wake Louis (who must have gotten home after he and Niall went to bed the night before), that he hears movement in the kitchen. 

Niall's standing in front of the sink, elbow-deep in soapy water, washing the pots and pans Harry had used to cook dinner earlier in the evening. They'd barely finished eating Harry’s infamous chicken parm when Niall had crawled into Harry's lap, and asked to be taken to bed. Bed, which is where they spent the following several hours taking each other apart and then putting one another back together.

Harry leans against the frame in the doorway behind Niall, arms crossed over his bare chest and against hard, cold nipples. "You don't have to do that."He's pretty impressed that Niall doesn't even flinch. "I know,” Niall replies softly, though he doesn’t turn around. “It's only fair, though, since you cooked."

"Come back t' bed. Dishes can wait."

"I can't sleep."

Harry sighs gently, as he comes up behind Niall and slips his arms around the blond boy’s waist. He rests his chin on Niall’s shoulder and tucks his nose against the bottom of Niall’s earlobe. "Then just come lie down with me. We don't even have to talk, just... We can just cuddle."

Niall hums, rests the back his head against Harry’s shoulder. " _Cuddling_ is always the magic word, isn't it?"

Harry leads him by the hand, back to his room. They crawl into bed, amidst soft giggles as they settle in the darkness until they're wrapped up in each other entirely – every line of their bodies touching, every crevice perfectly fitted. They’re not just puzzle pieces that happen to fit, they’re the only two pieces in the whole puzzle. One without the other is just…incomplete.

"Can I tell you something?" Niall whispers a moment later.

"'Course,” Harry whispers, pressing a soft kiss against Niall’s temple. “You can tell me _anything_."

Niall cuddles impossibly closer, nuzzling his nose against Harry’s throat. "I was fully prepared to never have to speak to you."

Harry remains silent, knows he has to let Niall have this; knows, by the hitch in Niall’s voice that it’s important to him, and that it’s probably been on his mind for far too long already.

"Like, I knew I'd have to see you, and I knew I'd have to speak to you in order to get some kind of closure – but I was fully prepared to just...walk away. I wanted to. I was determined to move on, to fall in love with someone else, to just...at the very least be _happy_ with someone else. But you were just – everywhere.

"'s like I couldn't get rid of you, whether it was in person or whether it was in my head. You were just _there_. Constantly."

"Bit annoying, then, wasn't I?" Harry hums.

"A bit,” Niall murmurs, fingers running over one of the swallow tattoos on Harry’s chest. “You were fighting for me though. So thank you for fighting for me."

"It wasn't exactly my fighting for you that won you over though."

Niall smirks, his lips against Harry’s collarbone. "Well, no, but I knew what you were doing. I knew you were trying to make me jealous – and I also knew you weren't going to go home with her, because that would have defeated the whole purpose of your fighting for me."

Harry hums again. "You don't say."

Niall’s only response is a long, drawn out breath against Harry’s skin. It gives him goose pimples, spreads shivers up and down Harry’s spine.

"Is this why you can't sleep?” Harry asks softly, running his fingers gently up and down Niall’s arm. “You can tell me if you're freaking out about this. Are we going too fast?"

"I'm not freaking out so much as I'm...sort of freaked out by much I'm _not_ freaking out,” Niall replies. He pushes himself up on his elbow until he’s hovering just slightly above Harry, looking down at him fondly. “You know?"

Harry quirks a curious eyebrow. "So...you're not freaking out?"

Niall nods. "Right."

"Good,” the brunette murmurs, before pulling Niall into a kiss that makes his lips tingle.

“Are _you_ freaking out?”

“Not even a little bit.”  
  
X  
  
"My parents want you to come over for dinner next weekend."

Harry blinks, looks up at Niall from where he’s sitting on the couch. His laptop is open, the bottom warm against his jean-covered thighs, a picture he’d taken of Niall the night before open in photoshop; he’s naked except for the white sheet covering him from the waist down and blissed-out, beautiful smile on his pretty lips, shining in his bright blue eyes. If it weren’t so intimate, he could use it for a school project. But seeing as it is quite intimate, the plan is to just keep it for himself. "W-what?"

Niall is standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, shoulder leaning against the frame, socked feet crossed at his ankles. "My parents want you to-"

"No, I heard you, I just – why?"

Niall brow furrows in confusion as he pushes himself away from the wall. He walks into the living room, plops down onto the cushion beside him. "They haven't seen you in a while... Do you not want to?"

Harry sighs, runs a hand through his hair as he rests his head back against the back of the couch. "No, I mean, I do, it's just...” he trails off, swallows hard as he stares up at the ceiling. “I mean, I stole their diamond, Niall."

"They don't know that."

Harry rolls his head on the cushion to look at Niall. "Not officially, but c'mon, it must have been pretty obvious to them. One day it was gone, and the next day it was there. They have to know."

Niall shrugs. "Well if they do they've never told me. They never even talk about it – it's like it never even happened."

"What if this is the one time they decide to talk about it?"

"Harry, you're paranoid,” Niall tells him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers through Harry’s soft, unruly curls. “That's not why they want to see you. They just miss you, that's all.

“In fact, I was always pretty sure that after we broke up and I ran off to Ireland, they missed you more than they missed me."

Harry scoffs, rolls his eyes. "That would not have been true and you know it."

"They _adore you_ , Harry,” Niall murmurs gently. “They’ve been asking me about you for weeks. And they want you to come over for dinner. Are you really going to let Maura down? _Bobby_?"

Harry frowns, bats Niall’s hand away from his hair playfully. Maura actually always had absolutely adored him. And the last time he saw them, Bobby was about ready to propose to Harry himself. And, if he’s honest, he’s not entirely sure he would have declined. "You're the worst."

“Great!” Niall chirps, stretching out to smack a kiss against Harry’s cheek as he pushes himself to his feet. “They’re expecting us on Friday.”  
  
X  
X

Harry's more than a little bit surprised to find Nick sitting in his living room when he walks into his and Louis’ flat three weeks later. It’s been seven weeks since he’s seen Nick – and, in fact, he hasn’t even thought about him. Nor has he thought about that life or that lifestyle, or anything else that has to do with it. And now that he’s looking at Nick, with his long legs stretched out from the couch to the coffee table, and his stupid grin, Harry can’t even say he misses it.

He lets the front door close behind him as he kicks off his boots, and tosses his jacket over top of the small table in the front hall. "How the hell did you even get in here?"

Nick scoffs, and pretends to look offended. "You did not just ask _me_ that."

Harry rolls his eyes as he joins the older bloke in the living room, sits himself down on the opposite side of the couch. "Still picking locks, then."

Nick shrugs. "Only when I have to."

 "You could have just called me. Like a normal person."

"This is more of a face-to-face visit," Nick drawls – and that’s how Harry knows Nick wants something.

Harry blinks. "What do you want, Nick?"

Nick leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees. "I need you to do a heist with me."

"No."

"Listen, just hear me out-"

"Nick-"

The older bloke ignores him. "There are a few guys, they want to do this thing, and they've heard about you – how _good_ you are, you know? They want you in on it, and they're totally willing to split it evenly all ways-"

"I'm with Niall, Nick."

Nick stares at him, his right eyebrow arched. "And?"

Harry sighs, pushes himself to his feet. "You know what I mean."

Nick groans, allows himself to fall back into the corner of the couch. "Right, ok, your noble life thing – fine. Look, it's not – it's just one thing, Harry. Just one more thing. Niall doesn't even have to know."

"That's not the point."

"If that's not the point, then what is it?"

"I just...I don't want to do it anymore,” Harry replies softly. “I told Niall I was done, I told _you_ I was done – and I mean it. I don't want to be a part of it anymore. I have no _desire_ to be a part of it anymore."

Nick tilts his head curiously. "Not even if you'll profit millions?"

"His family's diamond was worth millions. It's not about the money-"

"I'm talking _millions_ though, Harry,” Nick says, as he, too, pushes himself to his feet in front of Harry. He runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Like, the kind of millions one would find in a bank vault."

Harry’s eyes widen. "A bank vault? Are they _stupid_? The security set-up in banks these days are impeccable; there's no way they'd be able to pull that off."

"That's why they want _your_ assistance. That's the kind of thing you're good at, everyone knows it.”

He’s not wrong, is the thing. Harry is, and always has been, good at getting in and out places without even leaving a trace. He’s always had a knack for getting around even the most complex of security systems. He knows the job, inside and out. He knows how to play the game. He’s probably the only one that _would_ be able to pull it off.

"I'm not some fucking thief-for-hire, Nick,” Harry snaps. “And I'm not doing it."

Nick is silent, staring at him thoughtfully – Harry immediately feels guilty for snapping.

"I-I'm sorry, I just-"

"No, I get it,” Nick mutters. He licks his lips. “You've moved on. You're happy. Fine."

Harry sighs. "Nick-"

The older bloke shakes his head as he walks towards the front door. "Don't worry about it, yeah? Honestly. Just... I hope he's worth it."

He leaves, then, before Harry can muster up anything else to say. Which is just as well, given that there isn’t anything else _to_ say – except, maybe, that Niall is definitely worth it.

Once upon a time, Harry would have done anything for Nick, would have _been_ anything for Nick. And the fact, now, that the thought of running after Nick doesn’t even cross his mind – until much later, when it’s only a thought that it hadn’t even been a thought – is what Harry takes as a sign that things have changed. And they’ve changed for the better.  
  
X  
  
It's a week later when it happens.

It's like one minute he's leaving the library, texting Niall that he'll _‘be there soon’_ when something is thrown over his head and hands are grabbing at his arms and shoulders – and then all of a sudden he's being pushed into a chair and the thing over his head is ripped off.

It takes a minute for his sight to come back to him, for his vision to adjust from utter blackness to bright lights. Nick's face is the first thing he sees properly, when it does.

"I'm really sorry, Harry." He backs up, then, and three others come into view. Matt, Jeff, and Xander – he recognizes all of them, having seen them around a few times (knows Matt and Nick have always been quite close), but he doesn't _know_ them, not personally.

A quick glance around the room tells him he’s in someone’s living room. There’s a couch to the left of him and a TV to right. Behind the couch is a dining room table with only three chairs, which means the fourth is probably the chair in which Harry’s sitting on. On the other side of the room, behind all four blokes, is the door. It’s the only escape he can see. His gaze settles, then, on Nick again.

It's Xander that steps forward, but Harry can't look away from Nick; Nick, who's avoiding his gaze like it’s the plague, eyes glued to the floor beneath him. Nick, who’s, more or less, cowering in behind everyone else. "Hi, Harry,” Xander says, in a very obvious American accent. Harry hear one time that Xander used to be a Lacrosse player in the States. Now it seems he’s dabbling in kidnapping as well as robbery. “I'm sorry about the kidnapping thing – it's just, we knew you wouldn't talk to us willingly and, well, we kinda need you to talk to us."

"I already told Grimmy I wasn't going to do it," Harry growls. "So if you'll excuse me-" He's barely stood up straight when Xander pushes him back down. The edge of the chair against the back of Harry’s knees makes it easy to fall backwards.

Xander smiles at him. "I understand you have somewhere to be, and I'll let you get there, we just need to have a few words first, alright?"

Harry glares hard at him, eyebrows furrowed angrily.

"The thing is, Harry – you don't exactly have a choice. It's not about whether or not you _want_ to do it, because you're going to do it whether you want to or not."

"The hell I am,” Harry hisses. “I told Nick I don't want anything to do with this anymore – it's not happening. I'm done. I’ve been done."

"And here I was, hoping I wouldn't have to do this," Xander mutters.

Nick takes a step forward. It’s the first time he’s moved since he stepped away from Harry. It’s also the first time he chances a glance at Harry, and his eyes are wide and a little bit apologetic. "Xander, don't-" he tries-

But it's too late because there, on Xander's phone, held right in front of Harry’s face, is a picture of Niall leaving one of his classes earlier that week. Harry knows this, recognizes the clothes Niall’s wearing, because he'd gone for coffee with Niall before his class that morning. Harry’s mind is already swirling, and his heart is already in his throat, when Xander swipes a finger over the screen and the picture changes – to one of Niall sitting alone at the very table he’d chosen in the café while Harry had gone to get their drinks.

"You son of a bitch," Harry growls. He pushes himself up, and the chair topples over backwards. He lunges forward – but then Matt and Jeff are both there, holding him back. "I swear to God," he shouts, "if you've hurt him, I'll kill you!" His mind is in overdrive now, images of Niall bound to a chair, alone and scared, with tear-stained cheeks and chewed up lips, begging for somebody – anybody – to help him, calling out for Harry, flash before his mind’s eye. He feels sick to his stomach at the thought of it. He isn’t a violent person, and yet there’s a violent rage coursing through his veins at the mere possibility of someone willing to hurt Niall.

"Relax, Prince Charming,” Xander drawls. He pockets his phone and then folds his arms over his chest. “I haven't hurt him. _Yet._ "

Harry struggles against Matt and Jeff, but to no avail. "Xander, I swear-"

"I won't hurt him, Harry, just as long as you do a little something for us. I mean, look, the last thing I want to do is hurt Niall. He seems like a good kid, he obviously loves you enough to take you back after that diamond incident, and you've just threatened me with murder, so he _must_ be important to you. I don't _want_ to hurt him, but if you can't cooperate, then there will be certain consequences."

"That's really how you want to do this?” Harry’s voice is deep and angry, but his gaze is angrier, darker. “Either I help you or I don't, and if I don't you're going to hurt my boyfriend. That's how this is gonna go?"

Xander shrugs indifferently. "Times are tough, what can I say?"

Harry stares at Xander, glares at him. 

"Just say yes, Harry," Nick says from somewhere behind Xander – but Harry can’t be bothered to seek him out.

"Give me your word you won't hurt him,” Harry demands. “Actually, you're not gonna hurt him, you're not gonna talk to him – you're not even gonna _look_ at him. Give me your word."

"You have my word,” Xander promises with a nod of his head.

Harry doesn’t trust him, wouldn’t even touch him with a 10-foot pole. And yet, he feels like he has to. More than that, he _does_ have to. And more than that, it’s the only thing he can do if he wants even a shot in a hell at protecting Niall. "Then, I'll do it."

Xander grins. If he didn’t look so menacing, Harry would think his smile was a bit goofy. "Good to hear, Harry. Truly. Now I know you have some place to be, so we'll let you go, but Grimshaw here is going to get back to you about how we're gonna go about making a plan. You're free to go."

On cue, Matt and Jeff let go of both of his arms, and Harry takes off. He feels like he’s going to suffocate, like he can’t get out of the flat fast enough. His head feels like itsspinning. He ignores Nick's calls for him to stop, phone held to his ear as he waits for Niall to pick up, until the older bloke catches up with him in the elevator seconds before he can push a shaky finger against the button that would close the doors.

"Harry-"

"Shut the fuck up," Harry growls, pushes his phone into his back pocket when Niall doesn’t answer. He stares straight ahead, fists buried in the pockets of his jacket if for nothing more than to keep himself from swinging one (or both) into Nick’s face.

"I didn't-"

"You let them kidnap me!" Harry shouts incredulously – and only then does he turn his head to glare at his former best friend (and ex-lover.) He’d like to think that he doesn’t even recognize the man beside him, and yet he’s disappointed to realize that the man he’s looking at now and the man he knew before are still one and the same.

Nick frowns apologetically. "I didn't let them kidnap you, they just...did."

Harry whirls around on him shoves Nick up against the wall harshly and stands nose-to-nose with him. "You let them threaten Niall's life and you knew – you fucking _knew_ that I wouldn't be able to say no to that!”

 “Harold-“

The elevator doors open, then, and Harry steps out before it even stops bobbing. “I was supposed to meet Niall for a late dinner and now I'm late, and he isn't answering his phone."

Nick follows him, reaches for his arm to haul him to a stop. "I-"

Harry shrugs him off. "You've said enough, Nick."

"Actually, I haven't said very much at all."

"Good, because I no longer have the desire to speak to you,” Harry snaps, spinning around to face him as he approaches the front door to the building. He recognizes where he is now; he’d come to a party here once – with Nick. “I'll do this job for you and your pals, not that I have much of a choice at all, and then I'm done with you, Nicholas."  
  
+  
  
Harry's relieved when he gets to the diner, at 11:30 instead of 10:30 to find Niall still sitting there in their regular booth in the back of the restaurant. He smiles when Niall notices him and then makes a beeline for booth, past all the ones that are empty because of how late it is now. "Hey, hi," he breathes, coming up next to the table. He starts to undo his jacket, unwraps his scarf from around his neck. "Sorry I'm late, I was-"

"Don't bother," Niall mutters, as he climbs out of the booth. He grabs his jacket off of the bench next to where he’d been sitting. "I'm going home."

"W-what? But I just-"

"You practically stood me up, Harry,” the blond snaps, pushing his arms into his jacket. “You're an hour late, you didn't call me until 20 minutes ago – what the hell was so important, Harry? What was so important that you couldn't even call me before you were already 40 minutes late?"

"I was helping an old lady," Harry blurts. He flinches inwardly at his own lie; thinks, in immediate hindsight, something like _‘class was delayed’_ would have sufficed. There’s no way Niall is going to believe him.

Niall’s brows furrow in confusion. "What?" And, _oh_.

Harry scratches at the back of his neck, scrambles for something – anything – to say. "She was lost, and disoriented, so I helped her get back to her nursing home – I just, I didn't call you because she was scared and I-"

"Shh, stop," Niall whispers, placing his index finger over Harry's lips. He presses in closer, wraps his free hand around to back of Harry’s neck and presses their heads together. "Stop. I'm sorry."

Harry frowns, because what does Niall have to feel sorry for? Harry’s the one who should feel sorry. He _does_ feel sorry. "Niall-"

"I'm sorry I went off on you. Here you are being a good fucking person, and I'm making it all about me."

"Stop, you had every right to be mad at me,” Harry says softly. He feels guilty now – guilt _ier_. “I should have at least texted you."

"It's ok," Niall murmurs, presses it to Harry's lips gently. "We're ok."

Harry hums against his lips, eyes closed. Relief floods over him and he stays there, fingers wrapped around the open edges of Niall’s jacket. He doesn’t ever want to let go.

"Still hungry?"

"Starving," Harry murmurs.  
  
X  
  
"He's just been acting strange, is all," Niall murmurs.

Harry presses his back against the wall in the hallway, around the corner from where Niall and Zayn are playing FIFA on the PlayStation. He's just gotten out of the shower, was on his way to join Niall and Zayn in the living room for a lazy cuddle on the couch before he goes off to class for the afternoon. Upon hearing Niall's voice, however, he'd come to halt.

"How so?"

"I dunno,” Niall replies, albeit distractedly. “Just...off, I guess. Not himself."

"For how long, you reckon?" Zayn asks.

"Not long. About a week, maybe."

A week is about how long it’s been since Xander threatened him into being a part of the plan – before any of them even knew what the plan would be. Since then, he’s met with Nick, Xander, Matt and Jeff twice to lay out the plan. And the plan, mapped out mostly by Harry, is fool proof, if he doesn’t say so himself – even if he is fairly ashamed to admit it.

"You think it's anything to worry about?"

Niall sighs, long and hard. "I'm trying not to think it's anything to worry about, but... I dunno, Zayn. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes, y’know?”

"Ask him about it."

Niall hums.

Harry squeezes the bridge of his nose. The last week has been rough. Juggling school, work, school work, and Niall is one thing – it’s like second nature. But between all of that, and meeting up with Nick’s new ‘crew’…lying about it to Niall is getting harder and harder every time. And that’s not to mention the fact that Harry hasn’t been sleeping – which is something Niall has noticed, and had referenced in a state of worry only two days ago. Harry had only blamed it on school and work. He didn’t mention the few nightmares he’d had of Niall being kidnapped – and worse.

"I mean, he'll come to me, right?” Niall asks, and his voice makes him sound so small. “He's Harry. If there's something wrong, he'll come to me."

"He's _your_ boyfriend. You tell me."

"He will."

 Is it just Harry’s imagination, or does Niall sound like he’s trying to convince _himself_ more than anything else?  
  
X  
  
Harry is visibly frustrated and stressed out when Niall steps past him into the flat. His heart feels like it’s in his throat, his stomach won’t seem to settle, and his hands are shaking so badly that he can hardly get a grip on the doorknob. Niall turns around to kiss him after he hangs his coat up in the closet and, for possibly the last time he’ll ever get to, Harry lets himself melt into it. He kisses back, licks back as Niall licks into his mouth, presses their foreheads together, nudges his nose gently against Niall’s when the blond pulls back with a whispered, ‘Hi.’

He excuses himself, then, to piss and wash up; he doesn’t even have to tell Niall to make himself at home.

Because Niall does just that as he grabs a bottle of water out of the fridge and titters around the kitchen before he walks into the living room – which is where he sees a massive piece of paper lying across the coffee table.

Upon looking closer Niall notices that it's a blueprint for the Bank of England. His stomach drops, his heart clenches and a lump forms in his throat as he reaches for the blueprint with a shaky hand.  
  
Despite expecting it, Harry freezes the moment he enters the room and sees Niall _holding_ it. His eyebrows are furrowed in what can only be described as confusion, the tips of his ears are bright pink from what is probably a growing anger and his jaw is set hard, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Harry’s breath catches in his throat.

Niall looks up at him expectantly. "What's this for?"

"I can explain," Harry says softly – and suddenly Harry's thrown back to 19 months ago, when Harry was in quite the same position. Staring at Niall and pleading with him to understand.

"Yeah?” Niall scoffs, slapping the papers down on the coffee table. “Because they're _blueprints_ , Harry – there are only two reasons someone would need blueprints. And you're not a fucking _architect_."

"N-Niall-"

"You promised,” the blond mutters. His voice makes him sound small and disappointed but the look on his face, settled in his beautiful blue eyes reveals the truth. He’s more than just disappointed – he’s heartbroken. He’s devastated. “You told me were done with this shit-"

"I am! I _am_ done, this is just – it's a one-time thing," Harry insists. And he’s not lying. It will only be a one-time thing.

"’A one-time thing’. Something like this is never just a _one-time thing_ , Harry."

"I-"

Niall sighs impatiently. "Are you done with this shit or not?"

Harry hesitates.

"Well? Are you done – or was that just another lie? Something you told me so you could have best of both worlds?"

The brunet remains silent – he doesn't trust his words, and his gaze flickers between each of Niall’s eyes. He wants to say something, Niall can tell that he does, but he won’t.

"You don't...you don't have to leave that world, Harry, but I can't be a part of it,” Niall whispers. He licks his lips and runs a hand through his hair. “I can't be constantly wondering where you are or what criminal you're with or what laws you're breaking – I can't..."

Harry steps forward, reaches out for him. "Niall..."

The blond flinches away from him. "I'm so _mad_ at you. I'm so fucking furious right now and I don't... I'm done. _We_ are done." Niall turns to leave, then, water bottle in hand.

"Wait, Ni-" Harry cuts himself off. He wants to tell him the truth. He wants to tell Niall he loves him. He wants to tell Niall _everything_ , the way he should have from the beginning. He wants to take it all back. He just doesn't want to make it _harder_ for Niall to walk away. 

"What, Harry?" he asks, his voice but a murmur, as he turns around to face the boy behind him. He sounds broken and defeated – but he also sounds desperate; desperate for Harry to give him something to hold on to, for Harry to tell him something that won't make him want to leave. For Harry to choose _him_ – once and for all.

Harry thinks better of it; lets his pleas and apologies slips away, to make room for Niall to move on and finally find someone better for him. Once and for all. "Nothing. Never mind."

Within seconds of grabbing his jacket out of the closet, Niall is gone. And the only reason Harry doesn’t trash the flat in a fit of rage – because flipping a table over whilst imagining it’s Xander’s face would definitely help him let off at least a little bit of steam – is because it isn’t technically his flat.  
  
X  
  
Niall hands shake as he struggles to slide the key into the lock to unbolt the door, and when he finally gets it, he goes tumbling over the threshold. His knees are weak and his legs feel like jelly and the only thing that keeps him from toppling over is his hand clutched around the doorknob.

Two faces turn to look at him from their places in the living room, sat in front of the TV. He must look as awful, and blubbery as he feels because Louis and Liam are both on their feet in seconds. Their arms are around him seconds before his legs do give way; they're the only reason his knees don't hit the ground. They’re the only reason he makes it through to the living couch in one piece, and even then, that’s questionable considering he feels like he’s falling apart at the seams.

He sobs. He full-on _wails_ , tears spilling, unstoppable down his cheeks, snotty nose, shaky hands and ragged, heaving breath.

Louis puts on the kettle.

Liam grabs the blanket off the back of the couch like it's going to do something, like it'll make the shivers running up and down Niall's spine disappear. He rubs a hand up and down Niall's back when the blond leans forward, arms folded over his knees with his forehead resting on his forearms as he tries to catch his breath. Getting his breathing under control feels impossible – it’s like his chest is closing in on him, like his lungs are on fire and nothing is getting in or out.

Louis sits on the coffee table in front him, pets his hair with one hand, and holds one of Niall’s hands with the other. 

He feels sick. Like he's going to throw up, or pass out – or both.

It's worse the second time around. Having your heart ripped out. Having the floorboards fall apart at your feet. Watching the future you thought you had, the one you longed for, the one you had a second chance at just...disappear right in front of you. One would think it would be easier – that one would see it coming – that one would know how to handle it, having gone through it once before. But it isn't easier, and he didn't see it coming, and he doesn't know how to handle it. 

Somehow the first time is _nothing_ compared to this time.

“It’s ok,” Liam coos as he continues to rub circles into Niall’s back. “You’re ok.”

 But Niall doesn’t _feel_ ok. Nothing about this _feels_ ok. Everything hurts. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of his being _hurts_. He’s not ok – not at all.

 “Talk to us, Ni,” Louis whispers softly. “Tell us what happened.”

 Niall doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to say it out loud. He’s afraid of what might happen if he says it out loud.

 “Did something happen with Harry?” Liam asks tentatively.

 A quietly whispered, barely there, “It’s over,” is all Niall can get out before a fresh sob rips itself out of his throat and new tears cascade down his cheeks.

X  
  
"You're a _fucking_ idiot, Harry Styles."

Harry sighs as Louis stomps into the living room, where Harry’s lying sprawled across the couch. He’d picked up a random book off one of the bookshelves – one his mother had mailed him for his birthday – shortly after Niall had left. He’s been trying to read it ever since, but he’s been stuck on the third page for the last half an hour. "Not right now, Lou-"

"Yes right now!" Louis grabs the book in Harry's hand and tosses it across the room, in the general direction of the bookcase.

 Harry pushes himself up, plants his feet firmly on the ground as he glares up at his furious looking best friend. "What the fuck is your problem?!"

"Me? What the fuck is _your_ problem?!"

"I don't even know what you're talking about." And that’s a blatant lie. He knows exactly what Louis is talking about; it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about.

"Oh, you don't?” Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You don't know what I'm talking about? Let me just enlighten you then, shall I? Our little blond friend came back to his flat today while he was supposed to be with you – in fucking _tears_ , Harry."

Harry closes his eyes, drops his head as he runs a hand through his hair.

"He sobbed his fucking heart out because you're a fucking asshole,” Louis snaps. “Said you lied to him again, said you probably never had any intention of leaving that life of crime of yours behind for him."

Harry looks up slowly, his own eyes brimmed with tears he refuses to let go. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this. Not this time. "Is he ok?” he asks softly, desperately. Not that he deserves that either. “He's ok, yeah? Like, you calmed him down. Because he panics sometimes when he cries because he can't breathe, and-"

"Yeah, we calmed him down,” Louis mutters, falling into the chair across from the couch. He runs a hand over his tired face. “Liam called Sophia over for reinforcement. Zayn was still at the studio when Liam and I got there just before Niall showed up, but he was on his way back when I left. He should be there now."

Harry nods, more to himself than to Louis. It’s a relief to know that he isn’t alone, at least.

"Now stop with the bullshit and explain yourself because, unlike Niall, I know for a fact you weren't lying him."

"I have a job to do and Niall found out."

"What kind of job?"

Harry raises a curious eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?"

Louis scoffs. "Of course he didn't tell me. He didn’t tell any of us. Believe it or not, Hazza, that boy is so incredibly loyal to you. _Too_ loyal, if you ask me."

And yeah, Harry doesn’t deserve that either. He sighs softly. "It's just a bank robbery-"

" _Just_ a bank robbery. Right."

"Look, I can't – if anybody found out I told you, let alone let _Niall_ find out, they'd-"

"I knew it!” Louis shouts. He leans forward, eyes wide, and rests his elbows on his knees as he looks at Harry. “I knew you _let_ him find out. He said you had the evidence just sitting out in the open and I know you'd never let that happen by accident. What the fuck is going on with you, Harry?"

"I needed Niall to find it,” Harry admits. “I needed him to get mad enough at me to leave – and I needed to play along -- because I'm too much of a coward to do it myself."

"Why?"

"You have to promise not to tell anyone. Especially Niall."

"I won't,” Louis promises.

If it were anybody else in the world, he wouldn’t trust them. The only other person he might have trusted is Nick and, well, he stopped trusting Nicholas Grimshaw a long time ago. He’s not even entirely sure his own mother would be loyal enough to not tell Niall. "The guys I'm doing this job with threaten to hurt Niall if I didn't help them."

Louis blinks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he waits for Harry to elaborate.

"And I can't – I can't drag him any further into this than I already have, which is why I needed him to leave."

"Why not just go to the police?"

Harry snorts disbelievingly. "And say what? 'These crime buddies of mine threatened the life of the ex-boyfriend I've been trying to win back if I don't help them rob a bank'? Yeah, that'll go over real well," he says sarcastically.

Louis sighs. "Harry-"

"It's better this way anyway,” Harry insists, his voice but a whisper as he plays with a fray in the hole of his jeans. “He deserves better than me anyway."

"Shouldn't _he_ be the judge of that?"

Harry shrugs. "He left, didn't he?"

Louis scoffs, rolls his eyes as lets himself fall back against the back of the chair, but is polite enough not to voice his protest. The last thing Harry needs right now is for someone to convince him otherwise – not when he already wants so badly to believe it.  
  
X  
  
Harry sees Niall five days later, sitting alone at a table in the campus library. He’s done a pretty good job so far of avoiding the possibility of running into Niall – he hasn’t gone near the pub or the diner (not that Niall would go there now anyway), and he’s been taking extra precaution not to take the tube when he knows there’s a high probability of Niall travelling to or from class. He tells himself it’s for Niall’s sake and it _is_ , except, deep down, he knows it’s just as much for his own sake too. Losing Niall the first time was hard enough. But losing Niall, due to his own conscious decision this time, is somehow worse.

He lingers in the open space, a mere six feet away from Niall’s table, and he knows he should walk away. He knows he should just forget about it, pretend he never saw Niall, give them both the satisfaction of not making this harder on either of them. He knows it would be for the best. But he also knows that if he doesn’t try to say something – _anything_ , he’ll spend the rest of his life wishing he had. If for no other reason than to solidify the fact that he’s doing the right thing.

His feet seem to move on their own, and suddenly he’s standing opposite Niall on the other side of the table, hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his skinny jeans. “Hey.”

Niall’s who body tenses, but apart from that he doesn’t even acknowledge Harry.

"How are you?" Harry tries weakly. He wishes he could sound more confident, because at least then it might feel like this is what he wants.

"Like you care," Niall scoffs. He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t look up from the book laid out in front of him.

"I _do_ care."

"Then you have a fucking bullshit way of showing it, don’t you?"

Harry sighs. "Niall, just-"

"What, Harry?!” Niall shouts. He lifts his head, then, and his gaze is hard; cold. Multiple people glare at them and a few of them let out a frustrated ‘shhhh!’ and, for just a moment, Niall looks sheepish as he apologizes to a girl sitting one table over. His gaze is hard again when he looks back up at Harry a few seconds later. “What the fuck do you want from me that you haven't already taken?"

Harry opens his mouth to reply – but nothing comes out. Because the truth is, Harry doesn’t have an answer for him.

Niall takes a deep breath, licks his lips as he fidgets with a corner of one of the pages of his textbook. "You need to leave me alone,” Niall whispers. “I _need you_ to leave me alone, Harry. I – I can't do this. If you do care about me, even a little bit, you'll do that for me."

Harry nods, but if only Niall knew. He wants to apologize, but thinks better of it. Niall doesn’t need any more apologies. What he needs is for Harry to finally _do_ the right thing and let him go.  
  
X

 _The day_ comes far too quickly.  
  
Clad in all black, from the black ski mask folded up to sit like a beanie atop his head to the black runners he got to match Niall's way back when they decided to run cardio together two spring seasons ago, Harry saunters into his living room. Nick, Matt, Jeff and Xander are already there, also dressed all in black and scattered around the room.

"Finally,” Matt chirps from where he’s sitting on the window sill, cigarette held between his fingers. “It's about time you joined us, mate."

Harry nods at them in acknowledgement, but he can’t bring himself to apologize. He’s been ready to go for ages now – had been ready since before the others got there, but he’d made up an excuse after he’d let them in half an hour ago and he’d been hiding out in his bedroom ever since. Upon their arrival, he’d felt like he was either going to pass out. Now he just feels numb.

"Look we have to leave as soon as possible in order to keep everything on track,” Xander says, “but we should go over the plan one more time now that you're here-"

"I know what the plan is; I made the plan,” Harry mutters. “Do _you lot_ know the plan?"

Everyone nods.

"Great. Then we might as well just leave now then, yeah?" The faster they do this, the faster he can forget all about it. The faster he can move on – both from this, and from Niall.

Xander scoffs, pushes himself off the couch and to his feet. "Yeah, fine. Just remember it's _your_ boy at stake if you mess this up for us, yeah?" He claps Harry on the shoulder, a sneer playing on his lips, before he summons Matt and Jeff to follow him out of the flat.

Nick grabs on to Harry's wrist in the doorway. "It'll just be a quick job, yeah,” he murmurs, insists. “In and out, easy-peasy. And then you and Niall can-"

"There is no me and Niall."

Nick blinks, drops Harry’s hand. "What?"

"Not anymore."

"Why the bloody hell not?!"

Harry shrugs, pushing Nick out into the hall before he locks the door behind them. "Because he deserves better and I can't give him what he wants. Or what he needs."

Nick sighs. "Harry-"

"They threatened his life just to get me to do a job with them, Nick,” Harry snaps. “He could be in danger because of me – because of a life I’d been living before I even met him. It's better this way." _It’s better that Niall moves on_ , he thinks. _It’s better that he can at least try to forget he ever even knew Harry_ , is what he can’t bring himself to say.

 “I’m sorry, mate,” Nick says softly as they walk down the hall side by side. “I mean, for what it’s worth – and I know it’s not much anymore, I’m sorry.”

 Harry smiles weakly. “I know.”  
  
X  
  
Harry's nervous – his palms are sweaty, he feels sick to his stomach with the knowledge of what he's about to do. 

 He’s sitting up in the passenger seat of a truck he’d had dressed to look like a _GardaWorld_ bank truck, courtesy of an old friend who had, once upon a time, owed him a favour – one he hadn’t had to cash in on until he did so three days ago. Xander’s driving, and the other three are in the back of the truck, out of sight and earshot.

Xander is the ring leader. He’s the ‘boss’, so to speak, but it’s like there’s this unwritten agreement that Harry is the one running the show. He’s the mastermind. He’s the reason they have any sort of shot at pulling it off, after all.

Still, he feels sick. And he can’t stop thinking about Niall. About what Niall’s doing, and who he’s with, and where he is, and if he’s okay – and if he isn’t ok, then how _can_ he be okay? Is he comfortable? Is he warm? Is he eating? Is he sleeping?

“You’re lucky the others are sitting in the back,” Xander mutters, his voice breaking through Harry’s thoughts.

Harry looks sideways at him, left eyebrow arched in curiousity. “Why’s that?”

“They’d be a hell of a lot more worried about how distracted you are right now than I am.”

 _Distracted_. Harry thinks that’s putting it mildly. “I’m fine.”

“You better be,” Xander sneers. “Because if this goes to shit because you can’t keep your own shit together-“

“I’ll be _fine_ , Xander,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes as he turns his gaze back on the road ahead of them. “Worry about yourself. And your goons. Because unlike _you lot_ , I’ve done this kind of thing before.” And, ok, that’s not _entirely_ true. He’s broken into a lot of safes, and worked his way around too many security systems to count – but he’s never actually robbed a bank before.

Xander shifts in the driver’s seat, clutches the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He remains silent.  
  
X  
  
The heist goes off without a hitch.

Xander parks the “ _Garda”_ truck in front of the main doors to the Bank of England. They pile out of the truck one by one, duffel bags in hand. They pull their black ski masks down to cover faces mere seconds before they enter the building.

Nick raises his gun, a black AK 47 he pulls out of his duffle bag, first. He shouts for everyone except the pretty tellers behind the desk on the opposite site of the room to lie down, “chests against the floor, arms stretched out in front, palms flat down.” Everyone screams and panics, a small child bursts into tears as his mother pulls him around, out of sight, but they all obey.

Xander follows, pistol raised in one hand as he grabs an empty vase – which, only a few days ago, had held a bouquet of flowers – off a table near the front door in the other, before he demands that everyone get out their phones, tellers included, and put them inside. Everyone obeys. He then demands that one of the tellers let him upstairs to destroy the security tapes. To do so, he has a container of paint splitting liquid to soak the tape in his duffle bag.

Jeff leaps over the desk and forces the other teller to open all the drawers as he searches for money, carefully avoiding the wads that have dye packs, whilst Matt mans the front door.

And then there's Harry.

Harry, who moves on autopilot straight towards the vault. Harry, who gets the branch manager to unlock the vault with shaky fingers. Harry, who forces the manager inside first, enters the vault and then proceeds to stuff money and gold bars into five other duffle bags before he walks back out calmly, closes the door behind him and locks the manager inside.

The entire thing takes all of four minutes – if that – to accomplish. And it's flawless. Nobody gets hurt. Nobody gets caught. And all the customers, and tellers, are still lying on the floor when they’re leaving – and they're packing up and filing into the truck approximately five minutes after the whole thing begins.

Sirens can be heard from far away as Xander peels away from the curb and down the street, but the lads – Nick, Matt, and Jeff – are too high on adrenaline to care, shouting and banging at the inside walls of the truck. 

Harry feels numb and his brain feels foggy. He can’t even bring himself to get out of the truck when Xander pulls into an alleyway so that the others can strip the truck back to its original black finish.  
  
X  
  
Niall's out with Louis, having breakfast before Louis rushes off to class, when the channel on the TV above Louis' head captures Niall's attention. It's a news bulletin about a bank robbery.

Niall tries to ignore it, tries to keep himself invested in whatever story it is Louis’ telling him, but his curiousity – his worry – gets the best of him. The anchor says that the heist was impeccably planned out and, in the end, only lasted about five minutes. There's footage of police cars lined up outside of the bank, of officers talking to the public and to the witnesses – one of them being the branch manager, who tells a reporter that one of the robbers had locked him in the vault. The anchor goes on to say that the police have had yet to find evidence of how such a heist could happen so quickly and without detection; says that that, coupled with the fact that all the security footage had been ruined, could be a deciding factor in how the thieves might never be caught.

Niall scoffs as he rolls his eyes. "Of course he isn't going to get caught."

Louis, who had started paying attention only mid-way through the broadcast when he’d noticed that Niall wasn’t paying attention to him, fiddles absentmindedly with the corner of his napkin next to his plate of Eggs Benedict. "Can I tell you something?"

"You're going to anyway," Niall replies distractedly.

Louis licks his lips. "He did it for _you_."

Niall’s brow furrows in confusion as he pushes his plate, which is still relatively full of scrambled eggs and sausage, away from him to the center of the table. "What are you talking about?"

"He had already walked away. He had already put that whole life behind him."

Niall scoffs. "Yeah, long enough to reel me back in-"

"No, Nialler, you don't – you're so far off, Niall," Louis groans, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand.

"Then just tell me what the hell you're talking about, Tommo," Niall sighs. He’s so beyond playing guessing games now.

Louis sighs. "The guys he was working with, they threatened to hurt you if he didn't help them,” he replies. He leans forward in his seat, folds his arms across the length of the table in between them. “They threatened your _life_ , Niall."

Niall blinks several times, taken aback. "And he just – he _told_ you this?"

"I made him,” Louis shrugs. “I knew there had to be a reason he would go back after he had only just gotten _you_ back – one he wouldn’t tell you."

Niall’s thoughts start to swirl a little bit at that and he makes a face in concentration as he thinks back to the day he found out about the plans for the heist. And suddenly, it’s all starting to make sense. "Is _that_ why he let me find those blueprints?"

Louis nods.

"I knew he wouldn't leave those out of purpose,” Niall mutters. He has a far-away look on his face and his gaze keeps shifting back and forth, at nothing, as he begins to connect the dots in his head. “I fucking knew he let me find it on purpose. I just thought he was trying to get rid of me."

"He was trying to protect you,” Louis says softly, truthfully. “Had it been almost anyone else he would’ve taken their bluff but he couldn't do that with you. He couldn’t risk _truly_ losing you, Niall."

"So he let himself get dragged back into it."

"Niall, he had to-"

"No, he _wanted_ to,” Niall snaps – and, suddenly, he feels incredibly angry, because who the hell does Harry think he is, making decisions for him? “He didn't _have_ to do anything – he _chose_ to. And then he chose to lie to me about it."

"To _protect_ you, Nialler."

"Well he shouldn't have!" Niall springs into action, then, and collects his things to leave. He tosses a few notes on the table next to his plate to cover his meal before he turns quickly to leave.

Louis groans as he calls out, "Wait, Niall, where are you going?"

"To find him,” Niall calls back. “He's still a free man after all, isn’t he, Tommo?" And then he’s gone, out the door and down the street because he knows exactly where to find Harry Styles.  
  
X

X

Of all the people he’d expected, anticipated, to be the one to find him, let alone catch up to him, on the rooftop – the very one he’d found himself on on Niall’s birthday, and oh-so many times before – is Niall. He’s not sure why though, exactly; he’s not sure if it’s because he’d though Niall was done with him, once and for all, or if it’s because he’d _hoped_ Niall was done with him, for good.

He doesn’t say anything though. He doesn’t turn around. He simply stands there, the toes of his boots pressed against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, staring out over the heart of London on a surprisingly beautiful day. But he knows it’s Niall. He knows Niall’s presence, his footfalls, his cologne. Niall’s never been able to sneak up on him.

Niall stands beside him, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He’s silent at first, says nothing as he, too, looks over the horizon. When he does speak, however, his voice is calm and level. "So where is it?"

"Where's what?" It’s a stupid question, Harry knows. Because he knows exactly what Niall’s referring to. How couldn’t he?

"The money,” the blond shrugs. “The safety deposit box – whatever it was in the bank you wanted."

Harry licks his lips. "It's – it was just money and gold bars, and I don't have any of it."

Niall turns to look at him as he raises an eyebrow.

"I didn't take my cut."

"Why the hell not?” Niall asks, eyebrows furrowed. “Actually, here's a better question: why aren't you halfway to Fiji – or, hell, LA – right now?"

Harry shrugs. "I didn't want anything to tie me to the robbery."

"Why not?” Niall presses – and Harry knows what he’s doing. He’s fishing. “It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

The brunette sighs. "Niall-"

"Just stop,” Niall hisses. He pushes, although his touch is gentle, at Harry’s arm to turn him around so that they’re standing face-to-face. He glares at Harry, gaze hard. “Stop lying to me. I want the truth."

"Seems to me like you already know the truth."

"I want to hear it from _you_.”

Harry licks his lips, runs a hand through his hair. "Fine, I let you find the blueprint,” he admits, swallowing hard around the lump that has formed in his throat. “I knew you would leave and I was too much of a coward to do it myself. It was the only way you’d have nothing to do with me, and I needed to protect-"

"No,” Niall scoffs. “No, you didn't-"

"They _threatened_ you-"

"I don't care!” the blond shouts. “You should've told me instead of shutting me out. You should've told me instead of letting me be mad at you because I thought you chose _them_ over _me_. You should've told me so that I could have helped you."

Harry sighs softly, tilts his head to the side. "Niall-"

"My family knows a lot of very important people, they could've-"

"You don't get it, do you?” Harry asks rhetorically, because he knows Niall doesn’t get it. Niall _couldn’t_ get it. He couldn’t possibly understand where Harry’s coming from. Not that it’s his fault; he’s just never had to. “The last thing I wanted, after what happened before, was to drag you into it."

Niall shakes his head, a disbelieving (albeit sort of fond) smile on his lips. "No, _you_ don't get it, Harry Styles,” he murmurs. He steps forward, takes either side of the collar on Harry’s leather jacket into each hand, gaze holding Harry’s whilst the brunette watches him. “Whether you like it or not I'm a part of this – I'm _in_ this and do you know why? Because against my better judgment I still love you – and I still want to be with you. So fuck you for making me believe that you felt otherwise."

Harry smirks. "Fuck _you_ for believing me, then."

Niall surges forward and kisses him. He licks into Harry's mouth and combs his fingers through Harry's hair. Holds him close, and presses up firmly against him.

And then they're stumbling backwards until Niall’s back hits the brick wall next to the door he’d come out of only moments before. 

It's quick – simultaneously too quick and not quite quick enough. They're both desperate for it, clumsy and giggly with it. It's a mess of tangled limbs, throaty moans and breathless pants. They don't make it any further than a messy blow job – because it’s cold and it’s windy and Harry's too eager and Niall's too desperate, whimpering with his hands tugging at Harry's curls as his hips buck up towards Harry's mouth. Harry goes to finish himself off with a hand around his own dick as he climbs back to his feet to press a kiss on Niall’s lips and he smirks when Niall moans at the taste of himself. And then Niall's hand is there, taking over, pulling him off until Harry cums across Niall's stomach, his cries muffled by Niall's mouth.  
  
X

The walk a few blocks back to Harry’s and Louis’ flat is relatively quiet. There isn’t much to say, but there certainly isn’t a whole lot they can say in public either. And Niall is incredibly tense.

Cops are still roaming the city looking for the men that robbed the bank, after all. They pass a few of them, and he isn’t sure why _he’s_ the one to do it, but Niall bows his head. Harry squeezes his fingers. And when they walk past the bank, yellow tape wrapped around the entrance and two police cars parked in front, Niall finds himself holding his breath and gripping Harry’s hand just a little bit tighter.

He can’t figure it out, how Harry isn’t even nervous at all – not when Harry should be _at least_ twice as nervous as Niall. He supposes, though, that perhaps where Harry is concerned, he just isn’t worried because he doesn’t have anything to worry about. He’d heard the rumours shortly after the incident with his family’s diamond; the ones that labelled Harry as one of the best rustlers in Britain. Perhaps being one of the best at something means there isn’t a need to worry. Perhaps he knows he doesn’t have to – where Niall just can’t help it.

Niall once told Harry that he couldn’t do that. That he couldn’t spend the rest of his life worrying. He wonders now, though, if maybe it’s worth it. Maybe just _being_ with Harry is enough. Maybe. They’ll have to talk about it.

Talking, though, is literally the last thing they do when they arrive. Louis’ in class, and then he has work in the evening, and so, not only do they have the flat to themselves but they have all day to figure things out.

Harry makes quick work of Niall’s pants again, gets them around Niall’s knees before they even reach the couch. Niall stumbles backward until his bum hits the arm of the couch, hisses at the sensitivity in his groin when Harry wraps sinful lips around his dick. He pushes a hand through Harry’s hair, tugs gently on the ends of his curls to spur him on. Harry’s eager and thorough, pushes all the way until Niall’s cock slides down his throat, holds himself there as he looks up at Niall with lust-filled eyes, and then pulls back. He bobs, pops all the way off to lick at Niall’s underside, bobs, goes all the way down – and then it’s too much, too fast, and Niall whines as he taps Harry’s cheek with a finger. Harry pulls away slowly, kisses the tip of Niall’s dick, and watches it twitch once before Niall pulls him up to his feet.

Niall wants to last, is the thing. He wants _everything_ with Harry to last.

They’re stumbling down the hallway, then, shedding clothing as they go. And it’s like every time before, except it’s not. It’s somehow _more_ this time. Niall’s not entirely sure how that happens, but he refuses to dwell on it when Harry’s spread himself out, naked and beautiful across the bed.

Niall crawls over him, settles between his thighs, and holds himself up with his hands planted into the mattress on either side of his head. Harry reaches up, hands gripping the back of Niall’s neck as he kisses him, licks across his lips and moans into his mouth whilst Niall grinds their cocks together. He starts a journey, then. Leaves a trail of kisses down Harry’s jaw and neck, leaves a pool of them across his collarbones, creates a path down his chest and around his bellybutton. He licks a stripe down one side of Harry’s V-line, nips at the skin on his love handle.

Harry gets the message quickly. He rolls over, rests his elbows on the mattress, lifts his arse with his knees tucked underneath him, and spreads his legs.

Niall takes him apart slowly. First with his tongue, and then with his fingers, until Harry’s moaning and whimpering, begging desperate _pleases_ and breathless _more’s_. And Niall loves it. Niall loves the mess he makes out of Harry, when Harry’s so, entirely, irrevocably _his_. He loves it when Harry starts to fall apart at the seams, because he’s hot and he’s beautiful – and he looks back at Niall like Niall’s the only person in the world he could ever love.

He coaxes Harry back onto his back, crawls back up the length of his body and presses a kiss against Harry’s lips; he kisses Harry gently, lovingly. He holds himself in his hand, presses the tip of himself against Harry’s entrance at the same time Harry lifts his hips, and hooks legs around the backs of Niall’s thigh. Niall enters slowly and carefully, whispers for Harry to look at him – _let me see your pretty eyes_. Harry’s eyelids are heavy and his eyes are dark with lust and love and everything that’s in between. Niall holds Harry’s gaze with his own, one hand planted firmly in the mattress beside Harry’s head and the other wrapped delicately around the back of Harry’s head as he eases himself in.

Harry cries out, tosses his head back the moment Niall bottoms out – and Niall has to stop moving, has to bury his face in Harry’s neck, because he’s too sensitive and Harry is too hot and too tight. They both need a breather. And then Niall jerks and Harry moans and tilts his hips up as he whispers for Niall to move.

It doesn’t last long; neither of them do. What they lose in time, however, they make up for in intimacy. Intimacy is something they’ve never lacked, and Niall loves it; loves the closeness, loves feeling everything all once, loves feeling like they’re both just one person.

Harry comes first, untouched, with a sob and a cry of Niall’s name spilling over his lips. Niall he snaps his hips hard against Harry’s bum as he comes, moaning and biting into the flesh of Harry’s shoulder to muffle his own cries.  
  
+

In the aftermath, they lay amongst tangled sheet, legs intertwined and bodies pressed together. They’re delicate and breathless. Exhausted and overwhelmed and blissful.

Niall can feel Harry’s heart beating through his chest, fast and hard, from where he has the side of his face pressed again Harry’s breastbone. Their breathing is in sync. And between the soothing feeling of Harry’s fingers continuously carding through his hair and the patterns Niall’s been absentmindedly tracing into Harry’s abs, Niall knows he could fall asleep like this.

He could, except there’s a question that’s been plaguing Niall’s mind since they walked past the bank on the way here. He’d put it off, at the time, because he was too afraid talk about it. And he’s still afraid now – about what, he isn’t quite sure, but it’s something he has to know. He needs to know. He needs it almost as much as he needs Harry.

"Where'd they disappear to?" he finds himself asking, before he even makes the conscious decision to speak.

The movement of his hand in Niall’s hair stops, but only for a second before he keeps going. "I dunno,” Harry mutters. “Don't care either."

Niall swallows hard. "What about Nick?"

Harry shrugs.

The blond nods as he pulls away. It’s getting late, and he really is tired. There’s a lot more to talk about, a lot they still have to figure out – but Niall is exhausted, and he knows Harry must be too. "I should, um – I should go." He doesn’t know what the rules are now, considering they haven’t seen each other – or _been together_ – in weeks. Does he stay? Should he go? He moves to sit up, but Harry grabs his arm and he doesn't even care enough to protest when the brunette tugs him back down.

"Or you can _stay_. With me." Harry’s voice is soft and pleading. And so is his gaze when Niall looks down at him. He needs Niall; just as much at Niall needs Harry. "We can discuss everything else in the morning, if you want. I just – I just want to spend the night with you. Pl-"

Niall cuts him off, silences him with a kiss as he settles back against Harry’s chest, protected within the confines of Harry’s arms.  
  
X

Niall wishes he could say he’s surprised when he opens the door the next morning to find Nick standing in the hallway. He’d been a bit worried, at first, when he’d woken up to the sound of someone knocking on the door a few minutes before. His mind had raced, settled on a vision of himself opening the door to find a lineup of police officers on the other side. He’d imagined them barging into the flat, yanking a naked, unsuspecting Harry out of bed whilst reading him his rights. In his imagination, he’d felt lost and helpless, terrified of the idea of Harry being thrown in prison, alone and scared. That was the worst of it. Harry might have been fearless, nearly emotionless yesterday, but Niall knows that facing jail time would change things.

The knocking had persisted, and with the lack of an identification from the other side – [ _This is the police, open up!_ ] – Niall had figured that he better drag himself out of bed to answer it. Harry had had a hard time falling sleep last night – a sign that he actually isn’t as fearless nor emotionless as he was letting on earlier in the day, and now that he is asleep, Niall can’t bring himself to wake him up.

The walk towards the front door is a cold one. He’d only taken a few seconds to pull on a pair of Harry’s sweatpants before leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him, and not only is the air in the flat cool enough to create goose pimples all over his body, the floor is cold against his bare feet. Louis likes to keep things on the cooler side, all year round – but since Louis isn’t here, which is evident by the fact that his door was left wide open, and that Louis isn’t anywhere to be seen, Niall takes it upon himself to turn up the heat on the thermostat in the front hall as he opens the door.

“Oh. Blondie,” Nick greets him. The mischievous grin that had been stretched across his lips fades quickly. “I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised to see you here.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Niall retorts, folding his arms over his bare chest. “He’s asleep. And before you ask, no, I will not wake him up for you.”

Nick shrugs. “Then I’ll wait.”

Niall rolls his eyes. He so badly wants to protest, wants to slam the door in Nick’s face and tell him to never come back. Instead, he steps aside to let the older bloke in and then closes the door behind him. He leaves Nick to hang up his own jacket though.

Nick follows him into the living room, and sprawls himself out across the length of the couch without even being offered a seat. Niall really wants to hit him for simply being so ignorant – let alone for everything else he is, and everything he’s done.  
  
"He deserves better than you," Niall finds himself saying as he leans a shoulder against the wall, where he’s stood in the open space between the hallway to the bedrooms and the rest of the flat.

"I know."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," Nick drawls.

Niall remains silent, refuses to answer. He doesn’t owe Nick an explanation. Nor does Nick deserve one, if that’s what he thinks. Besides, it’s not like Nick hasn’t already pieced it together.

Nick shakes his head. "You're really fucking in love with him, aren't you?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

Nick snorts. "Yeah, well, he's really fucking in love with you too, so..."

Niall ignores him. "I was serious before, when I asked what you were doing here."

"I came to check up on young Harold, of course,” Nick replies. He pushes himself up to sit properly on the sofa, his back against the back cushion, one leg crossed over the other. “Actually, I came to see if he wanted a plane ticket out of here but I guess he won't be needing one. Again."

The blond smirks. "And you can't stand it, can you? If it were up to you he'd follow you everywhere."

Nick shrugs. "You're right. If it were up to me he _would_ follow me everywhere. Instead he stays wherever _you_ are. Except, mind you, for those nine months you left him behind."

"I had good reason to. He lied to me. He betrayed me-"

"He also _chose_ you,” spits Nick. “He chose _you_ over the diamond, he chose _you_ over the money and a certain future and-"

"He chose me over you,” Niall concludes. “And you hated it."

Nick rolls his eyes. "Of course I hated it."

That’s something Niall had always known, even before Niall found out about the diamond. He knew that, as much as Niall had a sore spot for Nick when it came to Harry, Nick had a sore spot for Niall where it came to Harry as well. Niall could tell by the way Nick looked at him, could tell by the way Nick looked at _Harry_. Harry had never known, though – not about any of it. That had been made apparent from the conversation they’d had about Nick ages ago. Harry had never seen it, but Niall had.

Nick leans forward, then. He separates his legs and rests his elbows on each knee with his hands clasped in front of him. "Do you want to know when I knew that you were going to be trouble?"

"Not particularly-"

"It was your first date."

Niall blinks. His heart jumps into his throat and, suddenly, he sort of really is interested.

"I tried to seduce him when he was getting ready and he wouldn't even look at me, was too busy putting together the _perfect_ outfit for your stupid little date. Then imagine my surprise when not only did he not get back until the next morning but he also didn't get even get a shag out of it either. He started going on about how you went to that concert and then went out for drinks or whatever and then you went for a walk before you ended up back at _your_ fucking flat and how you just sat in your bed and talked for a few hours and then snogged for a few more hours. He ditched having a shag with _me_ to not even have a shag with you. _And_ he didn't even care. He was just like ‘we're going to see a movie tonight’, like…" He trails off, looking disgusted.

And Niall _feels_ disgusted. His stomach turns over at the mere thought of Nick trying to seduce Harry only hours before Harry met up with Niall, way back when.

"Anyway, that's how I knew that his job with you was probably gonna be a little bit messy," Nick drawls. He waves a hand about as though it’s no big deal.

"If you knew the whole time, then why not just take care of it yourself?” Niall wonders. “Why didn't you just take over? You could've used Harry as a distraction for me."

Nick shrugs as he leans back, again, against the back of the couch. "I wanted to see how it would play out."

Niall scoffs. "So it was a test. What for – to see how loyal he was? To see how much pain it would cause? Why-"

"To see if he would choose _me_ ," Nick reveals – and even he seems a bit taken aback by his confession.

"You were jealous."

"Harry used to fancy himself in love with me,” Nick explains, as though that needs an explanation. “He used to follow me around like a lost, lovesick puppy. And I let him; he's always been cute, always been hot, always been... _special_ , y'know? He's just _Harry_ – and I would've been stupid not to. Plus, the way he shagged-"

"I get it,” Niall snaps. The last thing he wants (needs) to hear about is Nick and Harry’s sex life. Knowing it existed before Niall is hard enough to stomach.

Nick rolls his eyes. "Anyway, he always had it in his head that it would always be me and him, always got really jealous whenever I went home with someone else – he'd not talk to me for a day or two and then come crawling back-"

"So you basically just kept him around because he was young and impressionable and he was infatuated with you – therefore he'd do anything you wanted him to do."

Nick smirks. "Precisely. And then he met _you_. And he became infatuated with _you_ and your Irish charm and your blue eyes and your pretty face and suddenly he was blowing me off for you every time I turned around.

"And then I found the diamond in the closet when I was looking for a shirt he'd borrowed from me and I realized it was going to be even more messy than I originally thought because he wasn't just infatuated with you anymore – he was _in love with you_ too."

"But you still wanted him choose,” Niall mutters. “You could've taken it, told him you knew he had it but you wanted him to _choose_ and you wanted him to hurt doing it-"

"I'm an asshole, what can I say."

"You're a selfish bastard and I stand by what I said,” Niall snaps angrily. He can feel it, the anger and hatred he has towards this man in front of him, bubbling in his veins. “You don't deserve him."

Nick smirks, albeit bitterly. "And doesn't he know it, huh? That's why he has _you_."

Niall shakes his head in disbelief. "You say that like it's _my_ fault he pursued me, like I went out of my way to take him from you but that was-"

"Believe me, I know whose fault it was."

"All I did was fall in love with him," the blond murmurs. A fresh layer of goose pimples spreads across his skin.

Nick hums, but that’s his only response. It’s like it’s the only thing he can muster. Not even Nicholas Grimshaw, the self-centered, loathsome prick that he is, can bring himself to make Niall’s love for Harry look ugly. At least there’s that.

Niall decides to ask another question, then. One that’s been at the back of Niall’s mind since the day he met Nick. "Why didn't you just tell him – that you’re in love with him? Could've saved yourself all kinds of trouble-"

"I don't believe in _love_ the way he believes in love,” Nick drawls. He’s good at making it sound like he doesn’t care, like it isn’t a big deal, but it’s the pained look in his eyes that gives him away. What he’s said might be true, but Nick loves Harry all the same, in his own way.

"Then why are you here?" Niall demands. “If you don’t love him the way he should be loved, the way he deserves to be loved – why are you here?”

The older bloke remains silent. He looks thoughtful, like he’s trying to decide whether or not it’s worth it to tell Niall the truth.

"You could literally be anywhere else in the world right, why-"

"I told you,” Nick replies. “To offer him a chance to come with me."

" _Why?_ "

Nick rolls his eyes. "Because if he wants to come with me, and spend the rest of his life with me – who am I stop him?"

"He won't,” Niall says. “He won’t go with you.”

Nick shrugs. "Probably not but on the off chance that he does-"

Niall pushes himself away from the wall, fists clenched at his sides. "He won't-"

As if on cue, Harry shuffles up behind him. His gaze follows Niall’s, lands on the man sitting on the sofa across the room. "Nick, hey." His voice is a bit strained, and his gaze flickers sideways to Niall’s face.

"Harold, it's lovely of you to join us.”

Harry runs a hand up and down Niall’s bare back. He presses his lips against Niall's temple before replacing them with his forehead and then tilts his head to look at Nick. "How long have you been here?"

Nick shrugs. "Not long. Niall and I were just – catching up."

The younger brunette raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Just like old times," Niall hums dryly. He lingers for a few beats – the tension in the room is so palpable he feels like he could choke on it – before he turns and leaves a chaste kiss against Harry's cheek. "I'm gonna go hop in the shower."

Harry sighs, reaches for Niall's arm and the blond turns back around to accommodate for Harry’s reach. "Niall-"

"You two need to talk, Harry."

Niall leaves the two alone in favour of disappearing down the hall. He knows they need to talk, and he wants them to if, for no other reason than to settle their past once and for all – and yet every fiber of his being is screaming at him to go back. To not leave them alone. To not let Nick keep trying to manipulate him. And it’s a struggle, not to go back. It’s a struggle to remind himself that Harry needs to do this on his own – whatever the outcome.

It’s a struggle to make it to the loo in one go before his knees give way and he sinks to the floor, his back against the wall. He lets out a shaky breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

+

"I thought you'd be halfway around the world by now,” Harry murmurs as he sets a glass of water onto a coaster in front of where Nick is sitting on the sofa, before he sits on the other side, holding his own glass between his hands. Neither of them comment on the fact that Niall hadn’t even bothered to offer him anything.

Nick snorts. It’s sort of sickening how they do that; how in sync they are. "That's – more or less – what Niall just said."

Harry smiles softly and the dimple in his cheek makes its appearance. "Great minds think alike then."

"Yeah, sure," Nick mutters. He pauses briefly before he takes a deep breath. It’s like ripping a plaster off; sooner rather than later – and quickly. "So how'd _that_ happen again anyway?" he asks, nodding his head towards the spot in which Niall was just standing before he turned and walked down the hallway, without even so much as a last glance back at Nick. Not that he’d been expecting one.

"Louis opened his big fat mouth,” Harry replies. “One minute I'm sitting on the rooftop minding my own business and it was like the next he was yelling at me for trying to protect him. And then we – you know – made up a couple times."

Nick scowls, grabs a throw pillow from behind his back and chucks it at Harry’s head. "Gross."

Harry laughs as he brings the pillow down onto his lap, on top of which he holds his glass. "So what _are_ you doing here?"

Nick takes another breath as he looks straight ahead at Harry. He knows what the outcome is going to be, but he has to try. "I'm catching a flight in a few hours and I was hoping you'd come with me,” Nick confesses, voice but a whisper. “Of course, that was before your boy opened the door."

The younger lad sighs softly, looks apologetic. "Nick-"

"I know what you're gonna say so just – don't, yeah?"

Harry opens his mouth to say something else – an apology, maybe – but then he closes it.

And Nick would be grateful for it, really, except that he isn’t.

"I just can't let him get away again, Nick,” Harry says softly, a moment later. “I can't lose him."

Nick reckons he _knows_. He has to. Harry’s always been a little bit too smart for his own good, after all.

Harry frowns at him. "I'm sorry, for that it's worth."

"Don't be,” Nick replies, waving him off. “You deserve to be happy."

"So do you-"

Nick snorts, rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. Harry follows. "You've also deserved better than me for a really long time, H. Reckon there's probably nobody on earth better for you than _him_ – even if the thought of it makes me want to puke."

 Harry laughs. And Nick locks the sound away in his memory; he knows that this is likely the last time he’s ever going to hear it in person.  
  
X  
  
Niall knows Harry isn't going to leave. He knows that Harry's tried too hard, that Harry loves him too much, that Harry would've left already if he had any plans to leave at all. And yet, he can't stop the wheels from turning in his head; can't stop the awful scenario of Harry flying into the bedroom, throwing as much as he can into a suitcase and then following Nick out the door while he watches with a broken heart from replaying over and over in his head. He's always been a little bit insecure where Nick is concerned, after all, and despite everything that’s happened, he still is.

And he hates it. He hates that Nick makes Niall feel crazy in the worst way. He hates that Nick, and his past with Harry, has always plagued the back of his mind. And now that he knows that his suspicions have been right along, he hates _Nick_ even more.  
  
Harry’s on the bed, his back propped up against the headboard with his knees tucked up, a book, one Niall’s never even heard of, balanced against his thighs, when Niall walks into Harry’s bedroom. Niall freezes in the doorway, like he’s surprised to see him there – except he’s less surprised and more just…relieved.

"Hey,” Harry murmurs, greeting him with a smile as he lifts his gaze to look at Niall.

"Hey," Niall replies back, whilst making quick work of a change; off with the towel around his waist, on with a fresh pair of boxer briefs. He grabs a sweater out of Harry’s closet and pulls it on over his head.

"He's gone."

Niall hums as crawls onto the bed at Harry’s feet and rests his back against the wall. "And you're still here."

Harry smiles softly as he extends one arm to place his book on the bedside table. "Of course I am."

"Why?"

"You know why."

And, yes, perhaps that’s true, but he still wants to hear it. He _needs_ to hear it. "Tell me anyway."

Harry smiles gently as he crawls across the space between them. He straddles Niall’s thighs, takes Niall’s face in his hands and brings their foreheads together. "I love you – so much,” he whispers. It sounds like a promise. “Probably too much. I'd never leave you."

Niall lets out a shaky breath against Harry’s lips as he closes his eyes. He wraps a hand around each of Harry’s forearms, if for no other reason than to keep him there. To keep him close and secure.

"You're everything to me, Niall. You're more important to me than anything. Than anything I've ever had."

Niall opens his eyes. "Or stolen?" he teases.

Harry smirks. "Yeah, that too."

And Niall’s ok with that. "Where do we go from here?"

The brunette shrugs. "Anywhere,” he whispers, stroking a thumb over Niall’s cheek. “I'd go everywhere with you, you know."

Niall’s heart flutters, like its grown wings, and he closes the gap between them to kiss him. "Me too."

"Good."

“But you know what I mean.”

“I know. And I _don’t_ know, but I reckon we can only go up from here. Right?”

Niall looks at the man in front of him. He takes in the beauty in Harry’s face and the wonder in his eyes, lifts a hand to run his fingers through Harry’s long curls. He tilts his head, then, and rests it back against the wall as his hand falls to his side. His fingers play absentmindedly with a thread from a hole in the knee of Harry’s jeans. "You know, there's one thing you stole and never gave back to me."

Harry’s eyebrows crinkle across his forehead in confusion. "What's that?"

"My heart," Niall whispers softly, albeit a bit smugly too.

Harry grins, lips stretching wide across his teeth as he leans in closer, elbows resting on Niall’s shoulders, hands brushing through Niall’s damp hair. "I'm keeping it safe."

“I know.”

“I may have done a shit job of it before, but I’ll do better now. I’ll always keep you _and_ your heart safe.”

Niall smiles lovingly. His heart flutters. “I know, Love.”

X

X

X

X

[After]

“Shot boy coming through, move it!”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly as he pushes several empty glasses to the side in order to accommodate for the tray of, well, tequila shots that Louis is (somehow) keeping balanced in his hands. His gaze slides over Louis’ shoulder at the blond boy standing behind him. He waggles his eyebrows and blows a kiss at him – and Niall might roll eyes in response, but Harry sees the colour climbing up his neck and spreading across his cheeks anyway.

“I mean, I’m flattered, Harold – but I have a girlfriend,” Louis says, flopping down into the booth across from him. “Besides, I don’t think your boy would be too pleased either.”

“Shut up, Tommo,” Niall snickers. He slides into the booth beside Harry and smacks a kiss against his cheek. “You’re an idiot.”

Harry tucks his nose against the side of Niall’s face as the blond boy turns away. “And yet, you still love me.”

Niall hums.

“Ok, enough flirting and help me hand these out, Niall,” Louis demands, referring to the five shots on the tray. He grabs one shot and turns to his left to hand it to Liam, who’s hunched over his phone with Zayn. “Oi – Payno and Zayno, pay attention, your girlfriends can wait.”

Harry shakes his head as he takes a shot glass Niall hands him before passing it off to Zayn.

“To graduation day!” Liam shouts, lifting his shot into the air.

“Whoa, hang on,” Louis interjects, before everyone else can raise their own respective shot glasses in a toast.  “I think we all deserve a better toast than just _graduation_. We’ve all accomplished more than just that in the last year.”

“I’m actually with Louis on this one, lads,” Zayn says.

“Yeah,” Niall agree. “Take it away, Tommo.”

Harry sits back, one arm thrown over the back of the bench seat behind Niall. He looks around at the four of them, takes in their genuinely happy, blissful expressions and he decides that, yeah, he agrees with Louis too. And as brash, and silly, and mildly irresponsible as Louis has always been, he’s never been one to disappoint anyone.

“To Liam,” Louis starts, lifting his glass up in Liam’s direction. Everyone follows suite. “For becoming the fireman he’s always wanted to be.”

Everyone hoots and hollers in response.

“To Zayn, for all of those art shows he’s got lined up all summer long.”

Everyone shouts; Harry whistles.

“To Harry, for _finally_ getting his shit together – and for landing a sick job at the sickest photography studio in London.”

Everyone cheers and Niall looks at him like he just hung the moon; Harry _feels_ like he just hung all the stars in the sky too.

“To Niall, for signing on to work on James Bay’s next album. That’s pretty fucking sick mate.”

Everyone hollers and shouts and Harry presses a kiss against Niall’s shoulder.

“And to Louis,” Niall chips in, “for becoming the first drama teacher to be more immature than his students.”

“Oi!” Louis yells, looking offended. “I was serious about all your toasts.”

“So was Niall,” Liam laughs. He flinches when Louis punches him in the arm.

“I want a _good_ toast. Someone give me a good toast.”

“Fine,” Niall sighs dramatically. He winks at Louis as he lifts his shot. “To Louis, for being the best possible drama teacher anyone could ever have.”

“Thank you, Niall,” Louis replies. “Now drink!”

+

Harry finds Niall at the bar a couple hours later, the top half of his body leant over the counter as he tries to catch the bartender’s attention. The pub is busier than Harry’s ever seen it before, what with graduates littering every nook and cranny. He saunters up behind Niall, presses himself against Niall’s arse. Niall jumps, but he immediately settles once he realizes who it is. “I want to go home,” he whisper-yells in Niall’s ear.

Niall cranes his neck to look back at him, one eyebrow raised in question. "You want to leave _now_? It's hardly midnight."

"I'm bored,” Harry murmurs against his ear as he leans in. He presses a chaste kiss against Niall’s cheekbone. “Besides, I'd much rather have a _private_ party anyway."

Niall smirks, turns his body all the way around so he’s facing Harry properly. He folds his arms over his chest as he cocks his head to the side. "How private? Should I get the lads?"

Harry shakes his head.

"How private?" Niall asks again, almost challengingly.

Harry slips each of his index fingers through the loops on Niall’s jeans, just under the bottom hem of his shirt. He tugs gently to bring him closer. "Just you and me.”

"My place or yours?"

"I know a place that's even better."  
  
X

Niall’s laughing as Harry drags him down the corridor by the front of his shirt. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t even complain that Harry’s stretching the fabric of his shirt as he lets Harry man-handle him against the door at the end of the hallway.

Harry fishes for the keychain in his front pocket with one hand and keeps Niall pinned gently against the door with the other. His stomach is in knots, his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and his hand is shaking to the point where he almost has to get Niall to unlock the door for him. Which is silly, because he shouldn’t be this nervous.

Niall, meanwhile, nips at Harry’s chin twice before his lips find Harry’s. “This was a great idea,  by the way,” Niall hums, pulling Harry closer, with his own hands gripping at the loose fabric of Harry’s button down shirt.

“I know,” Harry replies smugly.

The door opens, then, and they both stumble through the doorway into _their_ flat. It's only been theirs for four days now – and the proof of that is in the boxes stacked all around the living room and the kitchen, as well as in the pictures lined up on the floor down the hallway towards their bedroom that are waiting to be hung. The bedroom, however, has been made up for three days now – bed against one wall, a long dresser against another, the closet tucked into the far corner.

This time it’s Niall dragging Harry, across the room towards the bed. He pushes Harry down on to it, observes him with a smirk as Harry’s body bounces on the mattress, and then crawls over him. He straddles Harry’s hips, grinds his long, hard length firmly against Harry’s.

Harry moans as he tosses his head back, and his breath catches in his throat as Niall attaches his lips to that spot in the crook of Harry’s neck that drives him crazy. “N-Niall,” Harry groans when the blond nips at his overly sensitive skin with his teeth. He feels like he’s on fire, like his bones are melting – like he has to stop before he loses track the whole point he wanted to leave early.

"Wait, stop..." he murmurs, tugging gently on Niall’s hair. “Niall-“

Niall pulls back, holds himself up with his hands planted into the mattress. He looks down at Harry with wide, worried eyes. "What? What's wrong? Are you too drunk?"

Harry shakes his head. "No, I just – want to give you something."

"Harry-"

He rolls them over so that he’s on top, hips settled between Niall’s thighs as he reaches across the bed. "It won't take long, just-"

“Haz, what’re you-“

Harry pulls a blank envelope out of the side table on his side of the bed. He sits back, then, arse against his calves as he presents it to Niall.

Niall, who’s brows are furrowed in confusion as he props himself up on his elbows. "Harry, I swear to God, if this is a cheesy graduation card-"

"It's not – although you know I love cheesy cards,” the brunette smirks. “Open it."

Niall sits up properly, one leg on either side of where Harry is sitting, and does as he's told He rips the envelope open to find two plane tickets. To Paris. For next weekend. He blinks down at the tickets three times before he finds his voice. "Wha- What is this?"

Harry smiles. "They're plane tickets. To Paris. For next weekend. And here I was, so sure that it was all very understandable-"

"N-No, I know what they _are_ , I just...” He trails off as he lifts his gaze to look at Harry. This time his eyes are wide with wonder rather than worry. “Why?"

"We deserve it,” Harry whispers. “ _You_ deserve it. And I want you to have it."

Niall shakes his head in disbelief. "How did you afford these? Harry-"

"I didn't do anything illegal, I promise,” Harry replies quickly, holding his hands up in defence. “I've been saving up money."

" _You_? Saving up money?"

Harry nods. "Everything has already paid for, so you have to say yes."

"Harry, this is... This is too much-"

"No. Don't even think about it."

"But-"

"I won't take it,” the younger lad denies immediately. He leans forward to take Niall’s face in his hands, strokes a thumb over each of Niall’s cheekbones. Niall’s eyes are wet, rimmed read and shining as he looks back. “I don't want your money. I want to _give_ you this, Niall. I want to give _us_ this. After everything I put us through, you deserve this. Please just let me give this to you."

 "This is crazy, Harry," Niall whispers. He licks his lips as he looks back down at the tickets in his hands.

"Yeah, well, I'm crazy in love, so," Harry whispers back.

Niall snorts. “You’re such a sap too.”

 “Says the one who’s crying.”

"Shut up.”

Harry laughs as he leans back, runs each hand up and down Niall’s thighs. "You told me once that you'd go anywhere with me. The question is, does that still hold true?"

Niall lifts his gaze, lets it linger on Harry’s face silently. He aims blindly for the side table to set the tickets on top of it before he runs a hand through Harry’s hair and then curls his fingers around the base of Harry’s neck. "Of course it does," he murmurs – and Harry lets out a breath of relief. "Although, you should have showed me these _before_ I unpacked my suitcases."

Harry rolls his eyes playfully. He opens his mouth to retort, but Niall cuts him off with a fervent kiss. And for the first time in Harry’s life, it doesn’t feel like running away – but, rather, by running away with Niall, it feels a lot like running towards a future. Together.


End file.
